Progression
by Clever Lass
Summary: Hermione became friends with Professor Snape with hardly any words spoken between them. It started the summer after Voldemort's return... AU after book 5, but containing elements of books 5-7.
1. Misery Loves Company

[Author's note: This story contains aspects of books five, six, and seven, but is not based upon or totally compliant with any one of them. There was no Dumbledore-killing at the end of their sixth year, for example, and many of the Order members either lived at 12 Grimmauld Place or popped in there very frequently.

Disclaimer: I am not profiting by the writing of this work of fiction based upon characters created by J.K. Rowling.

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Hermione became friends with Professor Snape with hardly any words spoken between them.

It started the summer before their seventh year. Harry was staying with his hated relatives, bemoaning the lack of news. As it happened, Hermione was staying at 12 Grimmauld Place, doing the exact same thing.

No one told her and the other youngsters anything about what the Order's plans were, and time wore heavy on their hands. Ron and the twins kept themselves occupied with mischief, Quidditch talk, and endless games of chess; Ginny with dungbombs, eavesdropping on the meetings, and avoiding her mother who always assigned kitchen chores every time she saw her.

Hermione, not being a great one for Quidditch talk, mischief, or kitchen chores, had little to do and ended up spending a lot of time upstairs in the room she shared with Ginny.

Voldemort's return had scared her out of her wits. She listened to the stories the older Order members told, when they thought she was immersed in her book, and her blood ran cold. The fact that so few people called him by name frightened her most of all. There was no muggle in history who had been so evil that his enemies were afraid to so much as name him! Even Hitler had been called by his name, and he had killed millions! So, subconsciously, she kept thinking of Voldemort as enough worse than Hitler that people wouldn't even say his name.

Consciously, she knew that names had more power in the magical community and that it made sense not to speak the name of one's enemy so as not to attract his attention.

But subconsciously, the fact simply terrified her. Knowing, too, that as one of Harry Potter's friends and a muggleborn, she was at high risk of harm from Voldemort and his followers, did not help to ease her fear. Hearing others tell _exactly _what was in store for her if she were ever captured was the stuff of nightmares.

For a muggleborn to go against Voldemort was like converting to Judaism and giving Hitler and all his followers magical powers. She read a lot of muggle history that summer, and began to understand the patterns of war and power that the advocates of "pure blood" followed. Pureblood, Aryan race—it was all the same.

No one else living at Grimmauld Place could understand her dread; there was no one she could confide in, so she kept her terror locked up inside during the day. She was never alone, so she was never able to relax and come to terms with her fears.

And at night, she found it hard to sleep. Instead of tossing and turning and waking Ginny, she began sneaking down to the kitchen late at night. She would fix herself a cup of tea in privacy, and enjoy the rare time of solitude that her insomnia provided her with.

That is, until Snape came in.

The first night she saw him there, the kettle had just come to a boil, and she was pouring herself a cup of tea when the door opened. In swept Professor Snape, long black cloak flapping like the wings of a predacious bird. He glared at her.

"Where's Arthur?" he demanded.

"Sleeping, sir," Hermione replied. She finished pouring her tea and then, on a whim, got down another cup. So what if he hated her? A nice cuppa never hurt anyone.

With this thought in mind, she ignored his response of scowl-and-pace-the-room while she filled his cup, and set it down on the opposite end of the table from where she usually sat. "Tea, Professor?" she offered, scooting back to her own end and sitting down.

He gave a surprised grunt, took off his cloak, and sat down.

Hermione found that Snape did not, in fact, intrude on her privacy. He was so lost in his own thoughts it was as if she was alone. She idly noted how he took his tea, and then they proceeded to sip in silence.

The next night began the same way, except for Snape's coming in and asking, "Where's the headmaster?" and nipping off to the library for a late-night chat with Dumbledore while the kettle came to a boil.

Hermione shrugged and made his tea the way he'd made it for himself the night before. She barely got it onto a saucer and set down at the far end of the table before he came back in to get his cloak.

"Tea, sir?" Hermione invited, gesturing toward his cup as she sat down at the other end of the long table with her own.

This time he actually nodded at her before sitting down.

After that, it became almost a game to her, timing her late-night forays into the kitchen to correspond with Snape's visits, and preparing his tea the way he liked it hoping that one of these days she would be thanked.

It never happened, all summer long. Every second or third night Snape would show up around eleven or half eleven at night, demand to see one or the other of the Order members, and almost absently reach for his tea when he returned for his cloak. On a good night he would actually give her a nod as he sat down at his end of the long table, but frequently he would just ignore her entirely. His sigh of contentment, though, as he reached for his teacup, always made her smile into her own.

As the summer wore on, Snape began looking increasingly haggard. His frown, already perpetual, deepened. His hair, always lank and greasy-looking, began to look more and more unkempt, and his spare figure became even leaner.

Moved to compassion for the nasty Potions professor, Hermione began adding a small plate of biscuits to his tea service. The first night she did that, he darted a suspicious look at her.

She returned him an innocently blank one, picking up a biscuit from her own plate as she nodded to him neutrally as if to reassure him that she'd been about to have some anyway.

Apparently that was enough, and although he glared at each biscuit before eating it, as if it had personally offended him, he polished off the entire plateful.

Since the biscuits passed muster, Hermione waited another week before trying a sandwich. She made it thick, with plenty of lettuce, good, crusty bread, and the roast beef sliced thin and tender. She made a half-sandwich for herself; enough to show him that she'd been making one for herself anyway, but not enough to fill her up before bed.

She got the suspicious scowl again that night, but when she innocently bit into her own, he simply shrugged and started eating.

Still, there were no thanks forthcoming.

Hermione came to understand, though, that the level of trust he showed by consuming what she prepared was, in itself, an acknowledgment of gratitude … of sorts.

Certainly he continued to be just as nasty-tempered as ever, barely even glancing her way on those rare occasions when they met during the day. Whenever he did catch her eye he simply looked away as if she were of no more importance than a piece of furniture.

But his demeanor began to relax so much during their silent late-night kitchen encounters that Hermione began to wonder how much of his carefully cultivated nastiness was actually genuine, and how much was simply a result of his being overtaxed.

For overtaxed he certainly was. Hermione could see his slow but steady decline as the weeks passed. His sallow face grew more drawn, and his cheekbones more pronounced. She tried to fill his sandwiches with the best meat and salad she could find, and started experimenting with different blends of tea to try and find one that was both strengthening and soothing.

It didn't seem to do any good. He no longer bothered trying to hide his fatigue as he slumped in his chair, one hand supporting his forehead while the other lifted the teacup to his lips, shadowed by his lank, black hair.

Hermione wasn't sure whether to feel honored that he trusted her enough to let his guard down around her, or insulted that he thought of her as part of the furniture. In any case, his obvious exhaustion and stress began to engage her sympathies. She started to feel almost possessive of him, and further resolved to do everything in her (admittedly limited) power to ease his load.

They continued in this vein for most of the summer, until the night when Hermione went down to the kitchen to put the kettle on and discovered Snape already there.

He was not in his usual spot on the far end of the table, but rather in the place directly across from where she usually sat. He was slumped in the chair with his face resting on his arms on the table.

Hermione put on the kettle as usual, spooned in the tea, scalded the teapot – she did everything as usual, trying to ignore his obtrusive presence at her end of the table. Then she looked closer at him and clapped a hand to her mouth, stunned.

He was crying.

Ordinarily she would have backed out from the kitchen to give him his privacy, but the kettle was steaming and she realized that deviating from her usual course of action would only point out the abnormality of his actions … and would definitely annoy him. So she continued making the tea as usual, and when his cup was ready she set it down in front of him on the table.

"Pro-Professor?" she spoke gently. "Here's your tea. Would you like me to leave?"

He said nothing, but lifted his head just enough to take a sip of tea before setting the cup back down. Hermione nodded to herself, picked up her own cup and turned to go.

A pale, bony hand snaked out and grabbed hers, clutching it with a somewhat painful intensity. Mutely he shook his head without looking at her.

Hermione sat down in her usual spot across from him, her hand patiently resting in his, and sipped her tea. There seemed to be nothing else he required of her at the moment, other than clenching her hand in his almost convulsive grip. She gave a mental shrug and settled in.

She had no idea how long they sat there. He buried his face in his arms again, and the hitch of his breath told her that he was still crying a little. He only surfaced long enough to take the occasional sip of tea, but he hid behind his hair when he did so, so that she wouldn't see his face. Once or twice she noticed tears glistening on the sides of his nose, and she held a long and heated internal debate over whether or not she should conjure a handkerchief for him. All this time, he kept his grip on her hand.

They were still sitting like that when Dumbledore came in. The old wizard took one look at his wounded soldier and at the anxious expression in Hermione's brown eyes, and he hurried over to pull out the chair next to Snape. "What happened, son?" he asked, with such a tender tone in his voice that Hermione felt slightly embarrassed to be there.

"Uh, excuse me… I'll just… go," she finished lamely.

Snape glanced up quickly, not bothering to hide his distress. "Miss Granger, I wish… that is to say…" A dull, mottled reddish colour washed up into his cheeks, and he shook his head slightly. "I hope I can trust you to be discreet about… this," he said uncomfortably.

"Yes, of course, sir," Hermione said in a rush. "Good night, professors." She left the room, but lingered a moment to make sure the door closed quietly instead of its usual slam.

Just before it closed, she heard Snape say quietly, "I'm sorry, Headmaster; I'm aware that holding a student's hand isn't exactly appropriate. I just needed a moment to remember what it was like to touch another human being without hurting them."

Hermione flexed her hand where he had clenched it so tightly, and smiled ruefully. Well, as long as he thought so, she thought. She'd never, ever let on that his desperate grip had caused her even the slightest discomfort.

Quietly, Dumbledore replied, "Oh, Severus, the things we ask of you!"


	2. Grief

_[Author's note: I have made some changes to the first chapter, including changing the time in which it takes place. Instead of the summer before their sixth year, this is now set in their seventh year. Although this story incorporates elements of books 5,6, and 7, it sharply departs from them in terms of plot._

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Chapter 2: Grief

When Hermione returned to Hogwarts in September, Snape's manner in class never changed toward her. It didn't matter that he was the Defense master now instead of the Potions master—he was just as caustic as he had ever been.

When they met in the halls, however, if there was no one else around, he would meet her gaze evenly and almost—almost!—nod an acknowledgment to her every time. It was as if he was too tired to bother summoning up his usual vitriol, when there was no one else there to hear him.

Neither one ever mentioned that night in the kitchen, when he had clasped her hand so urgently and wept behind his hair. Hermione guessed that his spying duties had forced him to do something that night that he hated himself for, and concluded that all in all, she was just as glad she didn't know.

She'd been sure that he would never speak another word to her outside of class, when one day towards the end of lunch, Ron came striding into the great hall. "Oi! Hermione!" he called. "Dumbledore wants to see you in his office. McGonagall just told me."

Hermione blanched. There had been more and more muggle-borns called to the Headmaster's office lately, who emerged pale and crying.

Harry, oblivious, said, "Huh. Wonder what he wants with _you_." The sharp note of jealousy jarred, but Hermione just sighed and ignored it. Harry's constant suspicions about Malfoy's clandestine activities, and his boasting about his own "lessons" with the Headmaster wore on her nerves.

Besides, if she stayed here to talk to him about it, she'd be late for meeting Dumbledore. And she was very interested in hearing what he had to tell her. She bit her lip. Were her parents all right?

McGonagall was waiting for her at the gargoyle, grim-faced. "Miss Granger," she greeted. "Please come with me."

"Willy Wonka" was the password, and Hermione bit back a smile in spite of her worry. Heart in her throat, she followed her Head of House up the stairs and into Dumbledore's office.

The headmaster was already there, sitting quietly with Snape. Dumbledore looked grieved, and Snape's expressionless face looked a little paler than usual.

"Miss Granger, do sit down," Dumbledore invited gravely. He gestured and an upright chintz armchair waddled over and nudged her into a sitting position. "I'm sure you're wondering what this is about," he began, but Hermione interrupted.

"It's my parents, isn't it, sir?"

He nodded sadly and glanced at Snape.

"Your parents died last night, Miss Granger," Snape said flatly. "Death Eaters found them and stormed their house around two o'clock in the morning. They were both killed." His voice remained flat and matter-of-fact, but his eyes showed a spark of sorrow.

"We are so terribly sorry, Hermione," said McGonagall.

Hermione sat there stunned. She had been dreading this all summer, but now that it had happened, she just felt numb. She hadn't seriously expected it; she'd expected to be the main target herself.

She glanced at Snape. "Did you see—I mean … do you know whether it was … quick?"

He nodded soberly. "I believe it was, yes. The Dark Lord assigned several tasks to his 'loyal servants' last night." He sneered at the word _loyal_. "I suspect that your parents were merely one more item to check off their to-do list before they could go home for the night. There was certainly no evidence of, ah, torture."

Hermione nodded and looked away. She knew as well as he did that the_Cruciatus_ curse left no trace behind.

He unfolded his arms and leaned forward a little, looking earnestly at her. "I am sorry, Miss Granger. I was … on a different assignment, and by the time I had arrived, your parents were dead. I'd had no warning. Please believe me: there was nothing I could do."

She nodded dully. "I know, sir." She glanced up at Dumbledore again. "Headmaster, may I go?"

Dumbledore hesitated, but seeing no plausible reason to keep her there, nodded. Hermione stood up, took one step toward the door, and pitched forward in a faint.

Quick as a striking cobra, Snape leaped forward and caught her. She slumped against him for a moment, and then began to recover her wits. She lifted her head and stepped back, but Snape kept his hands firmly on her shoulders.

"Perhaps Miss Granger ought not to be alone," he said with typical understatement.

McGonagall began, "Maybe Poppy could be persuaded—"

Dumbledore interrupted his Deputy Head. "I agree with you, Severus. Would you mind staying with her until after classes? Minerva and I have some guardianship matters to discuss."

McGonagall shot Dumbledore a puzzled glance. "Albus, I'm her Head of House. I really do think I should be the one to stay with Miss Granger."

"I'm afraid I need you here," Dumbledore repeated. "I'm sorry. And I apologize to you, Miss Granger, that I must keep you away from your Head of House at such a time."

"It's all right, sir," Hermione said weakly. "I don't mind Professor Snape."

"But Professor Snape is not—that is, I mean to say—"

"She thinks I'll be cruel to you," Snape informed Hermione coolly.

McGonagall flushed a little. "I didn't say that, Severus," she contradicted. "It's just that, as her Head of House, I feel I know her a little better—"

"I'm afraid I require your assistance here, Minerva," Dumbledore cut in. "Not to mention that I think Professor Snape knows the young lady better than you may think. See to Miss Granger, would you, Severus?"

Snape nodded curtly. "Come with me, Miss Granger." He put his arm around her shoulders and steered her toward the door.

McGonagall reached out to touch Hermione's arm as she passed.

Hermione saw the motion and misread her intention. Thinking that McGonagall was still protesting her going with Snape, she reassured her Head of House. "It's all right, ma'am. You can trust Professor Snape."

McGonagall's back stiffened. "I never said I didn't!"

Snape paid no attention to McGonagall's indignance as he shot a surprised glance at the girl who was visibly wilting in front of him. He didn't expect to be defended by a student, ever—much less by one of Potter's cronies.

He turned smoothly, took the girl's arm and tucked it through his as he steered her toward the door. "Come along. We'll go to my office."

Once there, he started a fire under the kettle and prepared Hermione some tea. He made it the way he remembered she liked it, and smiled to himself in satisfaction at her expression of surprise. She hadn't known that he'd been paying that much attention to her, last summer during their late-night tea breaks.

"Now then," he said, sitting down opposite her. He leaned forward. "I expect you have some questions for me?"

"How did they die?" she asked tonelessly.

"Straightforward_Avada_," he replied. "It didn't even look as if they'd been _Crucio'd_ first. As I said, they were probably just ... an item on the list."

She looked away.

"I am sorry, Hermione," Snape said quietly.

She nodded, staring dully at the fireplace. "They were already dead when you got there?"

He nodded. "I had my own 'to-do list' of three," he said bitterly. "I was able to save two of the parties on my list, but your parents had been assigned to someone else."

"Who?" she demanded, the dullness fading from her eyes as she pierced him with a sharp look.

He lifted one hand, palm up. "I cannot be sure. I have my suspicions, of course, but it could have been any of them."

"And any one of them would have been just as glad to do it, am I right?" she spat.

"Essentially, yes," he confirmed. "With the exception of myself, any Death Eater would have been just as glad to dispose of a couple of muggles at the Dark Lord's command." He knew his words were harsh; he tried to soften his tone to deliver them.

"I want to avenge them," Hermione said suddenly.

Snape blinked.

"I want to kill all the Death Eaters, Professor. All of them." She met his dark-eyed gaze and nodded to him. "With the exception of yourself." She echoed his own words.

One corner of his mouth twitched and he returned her nod. "For which concession, much thanks," he said dryly.

"Would you have—I mean, if they had been on your list, would you...?"

"I would have claimed them as my own victims," Snape told her. "I am known in those circles for disdaining the use of a wand and using potions instead. I would have administered the Draught of Living Death, told my companions it was poison, and then portkeyed them away as I did for two of the other families I was assigned last night."

He paused a moment and then added gently, "I wish I had been able to save your parents for you, Miss Granger."

"You weren't able to save the third family?"

A shadow crossed his face and he looked down. "My companions wished me to share the '_fun_,' and not keep it all to myself," he replied bitterly. He rested his forehead in his hands for a moment and sighed.

His defeated posture, his anguished tone—that was what finally touched Hermione the most. The grief for her own loss hadn't yet penetrated her overwhelmed mind, but the obvious despair and self-recrimination of the man in front of her affected her deeply.

The thought that he probably experienced this cruel dilemma on a regular basis—having to pretend to kill, but being unable to save more than a few—tore at her heart and made the tears come. She buried her face in her hands and cried quietly.

Snape fished a handkerchief out of his pocket with a sigh. She would cry, and then as soon as she could speak, the accusations would start flying. He had heard them all before: _Why couldn't he have saved them; how could he not have known; how come he could save other families but not hers; (this was the most common one) he'd probably killed them himself, and even if he didn't, he probably would have if given the chance; she hated him, and she'd get him back if it was the last thing she ever did_

He had heard them all before, but it still stung.

When she seemed to be quieting down, he handed her the handkerchief and braced himself for the onslaught.

It never came. Hermione carefully mopped up her tears, tended to her sniffles, and then met his eyes again. "Professor, thank you. I know you would have saved them if you could."

His eyes widened. When she handed back the handkerchief, he gestured for her to keep it.

She went on. "I know that most of the people you risk your life for will never know it, or thank you for it—but I know—at least in part—what you do for us. You help the ones you can. You do your best, and you mustn't blame yourself for the ones you can't help. Anyway, I just want to say thank you for all of it, Professor."

He bent his head, his hair swinging forward to hide his face. His response was so quiet she could barely hear it. "You're welcome."

After a few minutes, the noise of students walking by and chattering outside the door broke the spell of silence that had fallen between them.

Snape cleared his throat and sat back. "No doubt you would rather be with your friends at a time like this," he said briskly. "If you've finished your tea, I'll escort you back to Gryffindor tower."

She shrank back in her chair. "Actually, I'd prefer ... sir, may I stay here for a while? I'd prefer to either stay with you or be alone," she said, looking alarmed.

"Very well." He refreshed her tea. "Why?"

"I don't think Ron and Harry will be very good for me right now, sir." Blushing, with an apologetic look, she explained, "They'll blame you."

He nodded, annoyed. "Doubtless. You may stay for a while longer, then, Miss Granger. Dumbledore would have my head if I left you alone at a time like this." He rose and sent a note through the floo.

She managed a weak smile. "What was that?"

"An order for the kitchens. You're evidently joining me for dinner."

She relaxed. "Thank you, sir." With a sad smile she added under her breath, "Wish the circumstances could be better."

He nodded and said nothing.

"I may cry again," she told him baldly, after a couple of minutes. "If you'd rather I left first, I will."

The firm line of his mouth softened and he shook his head. "You stayed with me, when our positions were reversed. I can certainly extend you the same courtesy … and offer you the same discretion."

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_ More to come! It may even come faster if you review._


	3. Carelessness

Chapter 3: Carelessness

During the two weeks after her parents' deaths, Snape was his usual caustic self in public, but in private he would almost always return her greeting and sometimes even stop and talk with her for a moment.

It was nothing major, just a brief check-in to see how she was coping; sometimes he offered her an extra project to do for Defense; twice it was to ask for her help setting up for a Defense lesson; and once it was to warn her to keep Harry from attempting one of the spells scrawled in the margin of his Potions book.

Snape knew that Harry had his Potions book and was using it, and he suspected Harry of indiscriminately experimenting with some of the spells that Snape had invented as a teenager. Most of them were fairly benign, but there were a few in there that could really hurt someone.

He told Hermione to be subtle about her interference, as he wasn't interested in revealing his juvenile identity to his least-liked student in the whole school.

She agreed, hinting to Harry that perhaps he shouldn't put so much stock in the book; perhaps "the Prince" wasn't such a nice person; perhaps he should try harder on his own merits instead of depending upon "the Prince's" marginal notes. Harry got defensive, but she kept trying until the day Harry idly tried the _"levicorpus" _spell on his best friend.

Ron had been sound asleep in bed, when Harry's spell whipped him out of bed and hung him upside down in mid-air by his ankle. By lunchtime the boys were joking about it, but Hermione was horrified. What if he had tried one of the less friendly spells, randomly, on one of his friends? This was getting dangerous.

That's when she gave up and reported her lack of success to Snape when she happened to catch him outside the Defense classroom. All the Defense master did was cast his gaze heavenward and give a longsuffering sigh.

"Very well," he said. "Come with me, then."

She tried to protest—she'd been on her way to Charms—but he shook his head. "I'll make your excuses to Flitwick," he snapped, leading her into an empty classroom. "This is more important."

He locked and warded the door. "If Potter continues experimenting on his friends with unknown spells—particularly spells from _that_ book—then it's only a matter of time before he eviscerates someone."

He rolled up his left sleeve. She eyed his Dark Mark nervously. "You've seen it before," he said. It was not a question. She nodded.

He pointed his wand at his own arm, and with _sectumsempra_, opened a six-inch gash right down the center of his Dark Mark.

Hermione gasped.

He did not flinch, or react to the pain in any way, and Hermione realized that he was probably used to much worse treatment from his master and the other company he kept.

Blood welled up from the end of the cut nearest his wrist, and began dripping onto the floor.

He drew his wand slowly down the length of the cut, with an incantation of "_episkey_." His tattooed flesh knit itself back together again, with just a faint pink line to show where the cut had been.

He glanced up to make sure she'd got it. She nodded.

"Your turn," he informed her. He cast the slicing spell on his arm again and held it out to her. The cut was longer this time, and the blood began dripping almost immediately. With horror, Hermione remembered reading that people who cut their wrists trying to commit suicide did it this way: the long way, rather than across.

Her voice trembled, but her wand was steady as she drew it down his cut and spoke the incantation. "_Episkey_."

"Good," he grunted. "Again." He opened up his arm and made her practice twice more in quick succession before he nodded and rolled his sleeve back down.

"I know it's a foolish hope," he told her as he unwarded and unlocked the door. "But do try to make sure he doesn't do anything_deeply _stupid this year, Miss Granger."

"Yes, sir."

He nodded. "I'll send a message to Flitwick. It should arrive before you do. Off you go, now." Snape opened the door and went through, holding it open for her. His voice hardened. "And another thing," he went on. "If I _ever_ see you doing anything quite so foolish again, it will be a _hundred_ points from Gryffindor next time! Remember that, Miss Granger. You got off easy this time."

Hermione's jaw dropped as he stalked away, until she noticed the cluster of students who had been passing by. She tried not to smile.

Parvati Patil was there with her sister Padma. "Wow, Hermione!" Parvati said with her eyes round. "What did you DO?"

Hermione hung her head, looking thoroughly cowed. "I can't—I can't really tell you," she said, sounding flustered. "That's why he dragged me in there for the reprimand. He didn't want any of the other students hearing about it and getting ideas."

Snape, having paused around the corner to listen, raised his eyebrows in amusement at the chorus of impressed "Ooooohs!" her confession elicited. She'd made them think she'd done something so bad that_ even Professor Snape_ wouldn't ream her out in public.

He was pleased. The girl could certainly think on her feet!


	4. Horcrux Committee

_Many thanks to the folks who were kind enough to review the previous chapters; may all my other readers offer similar payment! Thanks also Elizabeth for helping me kluge together my two story fragments into this kludge. And thanks to Poemomm as well, for being willing to help even though it didn't work out. Blessings on you both._

_Many reviews keep me writing faster... and good, critical reviews keep me writing better._

_Disclaimer: all characters are creations of J.K. Rowling. Certain very general themes have been borrowed from other writers (such as Caeria with her "Pet Project" -- go read it, it's fabulous) but she says she wouldn't have recognized those themes herself, so I'm safe from her kneebreakers Guido and Vinny. Bless you too, Caeria! _

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Chapter 4: Horcrux Committee

A few weeks later, during an Order meeting, Snape had reason to remember Hermione's resourcefulness. Dumbledore had chosen a select few Order members to work on a special project: finding and destroying Voldemort's Horcruxes.

Severus Snape, Remus Lupin, and Kingsley Shacklebolt were the only ones whom Dumbledore would trust to share the information that he'd collected about Horcruxes, and even then he protected the information with a modified _Fidelius_ charm.

"One problem related to the Horcruxes," Dumbledore told the three men after he'd explained everything else to them regarding Voldemort's use of them. "One problem is that I know of only one way to destroy them. The sword of Godric Gryffindor is the only method I know of, that will kill the piece of Voldemort's soul."

"You do have the sword, though?" Shacklebolt asked.

Dumbledore nodded. "I do. But destroying the Horcrux with it will also destroy whatever was playing host to the piece of Voldemort's soul."

"Why is that a problem?" Lupin wanted to know.

"There are certain … things … that I believe Voldemort has made into Horcruxes," Dumbledore told them slowly, "that we can ill afford to lose."

"I would think that whatever the objects are, they wouldn't be as important as destroying the Dark Lord for good and all," Shacklebolt observed in his deep, quiet voice.

"Ordinarily I would agree with you, Kingsley," Dumbledore admitted. "Except that I suspect one or two of the Horcruxes are actually living things."

There was silence for a moment, then Snape swore. "Oh, hell. Bleeding, sodding, filthy, buggering hell." He looked at Dumbledore. "It's Potter, isn't it?"

Dumbledore nodded. "I fear so."

Lupin's eyes widened in dawning comprehension. "It fits. His scar, his mental connection to Lord Voldemort …"

"Lily's protection on him," Snape added quietly. "It wouldn't have worked if she hadn't died. And in dying …"

"She made it possible for part of her killer's soul to become lodged into the very child she was protecting," Dumbledore continued. "You can't create a Horcrux without a murder. However, I doubt whether Voldemort even realizes that Harry has part of his soul.

"But yes, Harry is why we must find a way to split Voldemort's piece of soul out of a Horcrux without destroying the host."

"… No matter how often I've been tempted to stab that boy with a sword," Snape muttered in exasperation, making Lupin and Shacklebolt laugh and Dumbledore shake his head ruefully.

"Perhaps someday you'll be able to make your peace with him, Severus," the Headmaster encouraged.

"Yes," Lupin agreed. "He is half Lily's, too, remember."

Snape snorted. "And when he starts acting more like Lily and less like James I'll think about it. But it will be a moot point if he has to be put down for the good of the Wizarding World, won't it?"

"To prevent that from happening," Dumbledore cut in before Lupin could retort, "I would like you, Severus, and you, Remus, to begin working together to find a way to separate Voldemort's soul from its host without harming Harry. Remus, you may wish to temporarily move into Hogwarts, as you'll be working quite closely with Severus. I'm sure we can find you quarters somewhere."

"A broom cupboard, perhaps," Snape muttered. Lupin grinned.

Dumbledore affected deafness and went on. "I have been thinking about this for a while, now, gentlemen. You two will be in a unique position to research something that has never really been studied before. In addition to the more immediate concern—that of defeating Voldemort—you may very well be able to make an important and valuable contribution to the entire body of knowledge about Horcruxes. Kingsley tells me the Ministry has only a little information. For that reason I must ask you to be very careful about documenting all of your tests and resources. We really know very little about them; it would be helpful if your information were available for posterity."

Lupin groaned. "Albus, do we have to? I thought time was of the essence!"

Dumbledore nodded. "It is, Remus, it is. But part of the reason that Voldemort succeeded in returning is that so few people have ever heard of Horcruxes. If there had been more information available, we might have been able to find and destroy his Horcruxes before he regained strength enough to return."

"We will do our best, of course, Dumbledore," Snape affirmed with a smirk towards Lupin who had always been known for his dislike of paper trails. "But much as I hate to mention it, Lupin has a point: making sure our findings are suitable for Ministry records will slow us down considerably as we move towards our immediate goal of defeating the Dark Lord."

"Believe it or not, I had not thought of that," Dumbledore admitted. "I am sorry, Severus, Remus. I sometimes get so caught up in the big picture—and you know how excited I get over academic research sometimes—that I am occasionally prone to leaving out the details."

"They'll be at Hogwarts," Shacklebolt mused. "Cannot one of the other teachers assist them?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "The only other Order member is Minerva, and she has her hands full already."

"Can you induct one of them into the Order? Or can you perhaps find a diligent, trustworthy sort of student? Are any of Arthur Weasley's brood the studious sort?"

The other three men carefully refrained from laughing at Shacklebolt's innocent question.

"I hesitate to induct any new Order members at this time, Kingsley," Dumbledore said. "And alas, none of the Weasleys are … of such studious habits that I would feel comfortable involving them."

Snape snapped his fingers. "Granger."

Dumbledore took a moment to follow his train of thought. "Yes, of course. The very one! She'll be perfect."

Lupin and Shacklebolt hadn't been quite so quick to follow the train. "Hermione Granger? What about her?" Lupin asked.

Dumbledore indicated Snape and Lupin. "We shall see if she might be interested in assisting the two of you with the documentation and the more mundane aspects of your research."

Lupin chuckled. "Offer her some extra credit for it, and she'll be eating out of your hand. Maybe even drooling on it."

Snape looked at him in surprise. "Lupin, you should be proud. That remark was almost worthy of me. However, I think we might do better to frame it in other terms when we speak to her about it."

"Yes?"

Snape nodded. "The Dark Lord killed her parents recently. The young lady wishes to avenge them. What better way to do so than by researching ways to destroy the Dark Lord's soul so that he can be killed as they were?"

"Avenge them? Clever little Hermione of the waving hand?" Lupin shook his head."Hard to imagine her so bloodthirsty. You really think that someone as prim and pedantic as Hermione Granger will be much use to us?"

Snape looked down his long, curved nose at Lupin. "You didn't see her in my office, the day after her parents were killed. You also haven't been around her much, these last couple of years. I suspect she'll be of more use than you think."

"Yes, but she's not even of age yet. The things we're going to be researching …"

Dumbledore interrupted. "As her birthday falls after the first of September, she has been seventeen for months now. And we will put the question to her any way that Severus thinks is best. I have full confidence in Miss Granger's abilities, and in Severus' assessment of them. If she agrees, we shall call it an independent study and give her credit for it."

He turned to the third man, who had been silent all this time. "Kingsley, with your access to the Ministry libraries, I'd like you to look for any information about Horcruxes that may help with what we are looking for. Severus and Remus must have full access to every scrap of information available about Horcurxes."

"Right."

Snape and Lupin exchanged glances and reluctantly nodded. Kingsley finished writing down all the information they had amassed so far, and handed it to Dumbledore, who scanned it quickly.

"Capital," he said. "Now, then. Wands, gentlemen."

All three men stood and touched the tips of their wands together. Dumbledore waved his wand in a quirky circle over then and then touched his to all three of theirs as he spoke the incantation. "_Fidelio."_


	5. Greeting the New Arrival

The next morning, still too early for many students to be about, Hermione headed down towards the library to look something up for her first class. As she neared the final landing, there was a dull knock on the front door. She saw Professor Snape stride past the bottom of the stairs to throw it open.

Remus Lupin stood there in the grey early light, with his trunk hovering behind him.

"Lupin," Snape greeted shortly. "You're here early."

Lupin smiled. "Hello, Severus. Are you planning to let me in at some point today?"

Snape stepped back from the door, allowing Lupin to enter. "You'd be waiting out there a long time if it were up to me," he told Lupin sourly.

Lupin laughed.

Hermione hadn't seen Lupin since that summer. What was he doing at Hogwarts? With his trunk? She came the rest of the way down the stairs. Both men spun around, on the alert, until they saw who it was.

"Hello, Hermione," Lupin said with a friendly smile.

Snape darted him a sharp glance—Lupin had been making fun of this girl only the night before. He snorted in disgust. Might have known Lupin was still two-faced.

"Good morning, Remus," Hermione said. "I thought I heard your voice. Good morning, Professor Snape."

"Off to the library so early, Miss Granger?" Snape asked.

"Yes, sir. Need to check a source for my Charms paper before I hand it in. Are you staying long, Remus? I know Harry will want to see you."

"He'll get his chance," Lupin replied. "I'm here indefinitely until—well, I can't really tell you yet. You understand, I'm sure."

"Ah," Hermione nodded. Order business. "Well, I shall see you later then." With a nod to both men, she continued on her way.

"Checking a source, eh?" Lupin commented as the two men made their way towards Lupin's temporary quarters. "Maybe she'll end up being a good choice after all." He glanced at his companion. "I must say, Severus, I'm surprised at your suggesting her. Don't you hate her? I wouldn't have thought you'd want to spend any extra time with any of Harry's friends."

Snape hesitated, unwilling to discuss this in public. "She is not nearly so insufferable as she used to be," he said finally. "Here is your room. I'll leave you to get settled in, and then Dumbledore wants us both there at noon when he speaks to Miss Granger about becoming our assistant." He wheeled around and was gone.


	6. Forming the Committee

It was like a disturbing re-run, to have Ron stride into the Great Hall during lunch once more and inform Hermione that Dumbledore wanted to see her again. Harry said nothing, but Hermione was puzzled.

"What is it now—did the Death Eaters kill my cat this time?" she muttered. Several of her classmates looked at her in surprise, and she glared at them. "Well, it's not like I have any family left, have I?" She gathered up her books and robes and headed toward the Headmaster's office.

"Think she's going to be okay?" Harry asked Ron quietly after they watched her leave. "She's been awfully testy since … well, since it happened."

Ron nodded. "It's just 'cause it's recent," he replied. "I mean, look at you—You-Know-Who killed your parents too, and you ended up all right."

Harry looked at his friend with disgust. "I was one year old, first of all. Second, I hardly even remember them, and third, I didn't end up 'all right'—I ended up with the Dursleys!"

Ron turned red. "Right. Sorry, Harry."

Harry shook his head and pushed his plate away. "'Sokay. The thing is, I don't think you ever recover from losing your parents, no matter how long ago it was. And Hermione's loss was less than a fortnight ago."

Ron looked glum. "Yeah. As much as we all complain about mum and dad, I couldn't imagine losing them."

Hermione arrived at the gargoyle to see Professor Snape waiting for her. He greeted her with a silent nod and spoke the password to the gargoyle. "Curly Wurly."

She didn't recognize it, which explained why he'd been waiting for her. The password must have only just been changed.

The door to the staircase slid open and the two rode the spiraling stairs silently up to the Headmaster's office. Dumbledore was there with Lupin already.

"Ah, here they are," the Headmaster said. They both stood up for Hermione to enter, and remained standing until she'd seated herself in the chair Dumbledore waved her into.

She found herself sitting in between Lupin and Snape, directly facing the Headmaster. "Yes, Professor Dumbledore?"

"Miss Granger, I have given these two gentlemen a task to perform for the Order of the Phoenix. When they quite rightly pointed out that concentration on the more immediate goal would interfere with the efficacy of the more long-term goal, and vice versa, we decided to request your assistance in the matter."

Hermione raised her eyebrows. Dumbledore wanted her help with an Order matter? "What is the task, sir?"

Dumbledore began to explain about the Horcruxes, only to find that Hermione had already learned about them from Harry.

"Ah, that's right; I did give him permission to tell you and Mr. Weasley about it. Unfortunately, Miss Granger, there is more to the matter than Mr. Potter is currently aware of. If you agree to work with these two gentlemen, you must abide by the same secrecy standards." He fixed her with a sharp, blue-eyed look and explained, "What I have to tell you concerns Harry, but he must not know. Are you willing, under these circumstances, to help?"

"I'm not sure, sir," Hermione answered coolly. She got the impression that the decision had already been made for her. "I can't really decide without knowing what the information is, can I?"

Snape turned his head away to hide his smile. Hermione had definitely come into her own this year! When he glanced back, Lupin was frowning and Dumbledore looked surprised. He wasn't used to having his suggestions questioned by a student.

Snape decided to speak up. "Headmaster, if I may offer an explanation?"

Dumbledore nodded, and Snape turned to the young woman on his right. "Lupin and I will be researching Horcruxes. They've never been deeply studied before, and the only ways we know to destroy them would also destroy the host, or object the sliver of soul resides in. The Headmaster has reason to believe that the death of young Mr. Potter's mother accidentally turned Mr. Potter into a Horcrux, himself. Therefore it behooves us to discover a way to destroy a Horcrux without harming your young friend."

Hermione's mouth dropped open. Harry, a Horcrux, himself? She would never have thought of that, but now she could see how it might have worked out that way.

"I see," she said, digesting the information.

"Let me also add that destroying the Dark Lord's Horcruxes is the only way that he can be defeated and his followers properly punished for their misdeeds," Snape said blandly. "As I recall, you mentioned some desire for that, when we spoke in my office some days ago."

She gave him a sharp look. Her eyes darkened a little, and she nodded. "Yes. I'd like that," she said. "But, why me, Headmaster? And why _just _me? Why not Ron and Harry as well? We've done everything else together."

Dumbledore pressed the tips of his fingers together as he answered. "Even if Messrs. Weasley and Potter possessed the researching skills necessary for this position, they would be unavailable for it. I have given them a task to do as well, that must be completed before the end of the year. They will both be taking a leave of absence from school.

"No, Miss Granger, you are the only one with the researching skills required; you are acquainted with the Order even if you're not eligible to join it yet; and there are currently no other staff members or students whom we can trust with this information."

"I see," Hermione repeated. "What about my classes, sir?"

"This project will very likely take up the vast majority of your time, I cannot deny it," Dumbledore admitted. "You may possibly be able to continue as a prefect, but you will probably have to drop a class. However, if you are interested in calling this project an Independent Study and replacing, say, History of Magic with it, I doubt Professor Binns would object too strenuously."

"Or notice," she muttered.

Snape snorted, and Lupin hid a grin. Dumbledore agreed, smiling, and said, "I will let Professor Snape and Remus answer any further questions you may have. You are welcome to think it over and let them know tomorrow, if you like."

Hermione stood. "Yes, sir, I think I shall." She picked up her bag and turned to the two men she'd been sitting between. "I shall let you both know my decision by lunchtime tomorrow, if that's all right."

Snape gave her a sharp nod and Remus smiled and agreed as they both stood to see her out.

"If there's nothing else, Headmaster, I do have classes to teach," Snape said.

"No, nothing else. Remus, you may get started right away, with these books," Dumbledore said, handing the werewolf a stack of books. "These should keep you both busy until we hear from Kingsley."

Snape caught up with Hermione in the corridor, his long, silent stride overtaking her easily. She glanced up at him. "What do you think, sir? Should I accept?"

He spread out one hand in an eloquent deferring gesture. "Only you can decide that, Miss Granger." He was silent for a moment, and then as they reached the turning of the corridor, he paused. "If my opinion holds any weight with you, I do think you are the best suited to this position. It was I, in fact, who suggested you to Professor Dumbledore. While you do have perfect freedom to turn down this opportunity--and I'm sure Lupin and I will find _some _way to manage if you do--I think your skills and preferences would be better suited to helping with this project than yawning through another interminable Binns lecture."

Hermione smiled."Thank you, Professor. I will think it over and let you know tomorrow morning."

He inclined his head. "Fine. I'll be in my office during second hour, awaiting your decision with bated breath." Hermione could almost taste the sarcasm dripping from his words, but it didn't bother her anymore. She was beginning to understand this was simply how his sense of humor manifested. She nodded and hurried off to class as he turned the opposite way towards the Defense classroom.


	7. Typical Committee Efficiency

Hermione found that working with Snape and Lupin had quite a high entertainment value. Snape insulted the other man constantly, and Lupin laughed at him and completely ignored his dislike—until he got tired, and then he was frightfully easy for Snape to offend. Hermione began to suspect that Snape arranged their meetings late at night for just that purpose.

Snape's manner towards Hermione was courteous but businesslike, whereas Lupin had a more relaxed manner. She soon found, though, that she preferred Snape's efficient formality to Lupin's informal, haphazard approach to their working together.

They went for several days just aimlessly researching everything they could find on Horcruxes, but in the end had to admit defeat. Lupin suggested that it was time to regroup and try a new approach.

They began by conducting what Hermione called a "brainstorming session", while Lupin referred to it as an "idea mill". Snape called it "vomiting out non-sequiturs in a senseless fashion", but eventually started getting into it and thinking of some innovative approaches.

The problem was that there was so little information to be going on with, and since none of them were interested in fracturing their own souls for the sake of science, most of their ideas were impossible to test.

It was Hermione who actually came up with the best way, not only to formulate a method, but to test it as well.

They were meeting late one Friday night (they met at least 3 evenings a week, and frequently ran into each other in the library or the dungeons between-times) down in Snape's office.

After close to an hour of pointless discussion, Hermione threw down her quill in frustration. "This is useless. Even if we were to somehow stumble onto some way to effect the separation, we'd have no way to test it!"

"What, Miss Granger? Not willing to set aside your ethics long enough to create a Horcrux of your own?" Snape asked sarcastically. "Oh, dear. Can it be that our estimable Miss Granger isn't quite as dedicated to research as she lets on?"

"Severus!" Lupin exclaimed, shocked, but Hermione just grinned at her professor.

"I'm not willing to sell my soul for it, no, sir," she replied. She was beginning to get used to Snape's dispassionate, deadpan teasing.

"Mmm," he agreed. "Alas that the Dark Lord did not share your reticence. Your selfish refusal to create a Horcrux of your own, however, still leaves us in the same position: nothing to study, and no way to test it. Ah, well. If you change your mind, I can think of several candidates without whom the world might be a better place."

"Well, sir, as dedicated to education as you are, perhaps you could create one for the purpose of showing me how," Hermione very carefully teased back. "Not to mention improving the world."

His expression looked bleak for a moment. "I probably have so little left of my soul that it wouldn't be worth splitting," he muttered. Louder, he said, "No, it will have to be Lupin. Imagine, an immortal werewolf. Wouldn't that be nice."

Lupin coughed. "Good God, Severus, what kind of hell would you wish on me? I know my inner wolf makes me age quickly, but contrary to what you might think, I have no desire to slow it down."

Snape's mouth curled at one corner. "Ah, yes. So how old are you now, anyway, Lupin? In dog years, I mean."

"Old enough to be your father, sonny, so get back to work!"

Lupin's audacity with Snape amused Hermione greatly—she thought vaguely that this was how Harry and Ron might be in about twenty years. She hid a smile, imagining Snape's utter horror at the idea.

Snape shook his head. "What work? We have no work. None of us is willing to create a Horcrux—no matter how many worthwhile potential murder victims I could cheerfully nominate—so where does that leave us? With little information and even less hope." He scowled.

Silence fell. Snape flipped through one of the books Lupin had brought from the library; Lupin began re-reading his notes, and Hermione stared off into the middle distance, thinking hard.

She spoke slowly, still thinking out her idea as she said it. "Perhaps the problem is that we've been thinking too specifically. Perhaps we might think of a more general means of performing the separation, which would work on Horcruxes as well as other things. We can't create an anti-Horcrux charm or potion, but we can probably create one that simply separates things that have unwillingly become part of other things."

Snape gave her a long, thoughtful look. Lupin raised his eyebrows. "You mean a general charm? As in, one that removes a splinter, you think will have the same effect upon a murderer's piece of soul? That's an awfully long stretch, Hermione. We have to be looking more specifically, I think. Not just something to remove a Horcrux, but to remove Voldemort's Horcrux. I hate to say it, but you're on the wrong track. "

Snape turned to level his thoughtful gaze at Lupin. "It's the principle, though, Lupin. What do a splinter and a Horcrux have in common?"

Lupin frowned at him. "What are you getting at?"

"Think about it. The general principle of removing something foreign from something else. Something that doesn't belong there. We could start with that principle and then refine it later, as needed."

Hermione let out a little giggle. "Like an I.U.D."

Lupin looked uncomprehendingly at her, but Snape snorted in amusement. "Exactly," he said.

"Or even a tattoo," she went on thoughtfully.

Snape frowned. "But what about the substance of the intrusion? A splinter is solid. So is an I.U.D., for that matter. A tattoo is originally liquid, and a soul is ... what is a soul?" he finished the sentence in a quiet murmur, thinking hard.

"We know what a soul is. What I want to know is what the hell is an I.U.D.?" Lupin interrupted.

"It's a muggle contraceptive device inserted into the uterus," Hermione told him absently, still staring off into space, her attention obviously not on Lupin.

Lupin's eyebrows rose up his forehead, and he cocked his head to one side and wiggled his finger in his ear as if he weren't hearing properly. "Pardon?"

"Intra-uterine device," Hermione explained. "A muggle device inserted into the woman's uterus…" She saw Lupin's blank stare and changed her wording. "… her womb, that is … It prevents her fertilized egg from implanting."

"You mean they actually put it up inside…?" Lupin grimaced in disgust.

Snape smirked at him. "What's the matter, Lupin? That's surely not anti-muggle bias I see, now, is it?"

Lupin glared across the room at the dark-haired man. "Of course not, Severus. What do you take me for? It's just that some of those muggle 'inventions' are so unnatural." He shook his head, the grimace firmly in place.

Hermione came back to herself and grinned at him. "And taking a potion that ties together the tails from your sperm cells isn't unnatural?" At Lupin's discomfited look, she laughed aloud. "Or for the woman to use a charm that builds a protective wall around each released egg? That's natural? I've looked at that wall through a microscope, Remus—it even has bricks and mortar! If you ask me, wizards are the last ones to complain about muggle things being unnatural!"

Lupin's face had turned a dull, mottled red. Snape turned back to the original topic. "So the substance of a soul, for the purposes of testing…"

"Let's just call it a gas, just for the time being," Hermione suggested, getting caught right back up in the conversation. "It's at least similarly intangible."

Snape nodded. "True, but then there's the consciousness of it, the essence of its owner …" his voice trailed off as he thought.

"Perhaps legilimency, sir? Harry says you're a very good Legilimens. You might be able to tell that way whether the consciousness is there or not."

He shook his head. "One needs eye contact for legilimency, but perhaps the Headmaster could help us modify it. However, we still need to know whether to concentrate on a potion, charm, or spell."

He stood up and strode back to his supply closet, flinging the doors open wide. "I'll look into the potions possibilities. Miss Granger, you can check with Flitwick tomorrow about a possible charm—he's supposed to be supervising the Hogsmeade weekend, so he'll likely be hiding out at the back of the Three Broomsticks—and don't let him get away without giving you an answer."

He turned to Lupin. "Lupin, can you find some information on—"

"Finally remembered I was here, did you?" Lupin asked sourly. "The way you two are going on, are you sure you even need me?"

Hermione took a deep breath to answer—she hadn't meant to be rude!—but Snape surprised her by crossing the room again quickly and sitting down next to the other man.

He leaned in close, concern etched into every line of his face. "Lupin, how can you say that? Of course we need you! Dumbledore wouldn't have partnered you with me if we didn't need you!"

Hermione was shocked, never having seen such an expression cross Snape's face before in her life, and Lupin was obviously taken aback by such evident care.

"Oh, why, Severus, I was only jok—" he started to stammer

Snape interrupted, patting Lupin solicitously on the shoulder. "If this idea works, who else would we ever find to test it on?"

There was dead silence for a long moment, and then Lupin burst into laughter. "Damn you, Severus!" he said. "You really had me going, there."

Snape leaned back, smirking. "Ah, good. Haven't lost my touch, then." As Lupin continued laughing, Snape's smirk relaxed into a genuine smile.

Hermione could have sworn she even heard him chuckle once or twice. Completely bewildered by Solicitous, Smiling Snape and Laughing Lupin, she shook her head and hid her own smile. She was reminded again of a grown-up version of Ron and Harry! Giggling at the thought, she nevertheless amused herself for an instant by wondering what Dumbledore would end up naming this trio!

Composure regained, Lupin wiped his eyes. "All right, then. Since I'm needed as a lab-wolf, if nothing else, I suppose I'll stay."

Snape heaved a theatrical sigh. "I much prefer pygmy puffs," he muttered. Leaning forward, he got back to business. "Right, then. Lupin, you should ransack the library for anything you can find on charms or potions whose purpose is to separate out what doesn't belong. No matter what it is. If you only find information about removing a splinter, for God's sake, bring it to us!

"Miss Granger, find out all you can from Flitwick. He probably knows more about charms than the Hogwarts library does, but just in case he misses something, you can look for information there as well. "I'll contact some of my associates in the Potions field and see what we can learn from them."

His clock chimed, and Snape's hand flew to his mouth to cover up his involuntary yawn.

Lupin noticed. "Severus, you're a slave driver. It's after midnight. I vote we get to bed and get started on this tomorrow."

"We?" Snape repeated. "'_We_ get to bed'? Why, Lupin, I didn't know you cared."

Lupin stood up and stalked to the door. "I don't!" he exclaimed with a flash of irritation. "Good night!" and he slammed the door on his way out.

Hermione couldn't help herself. She was tired; it was late; and she'd just been reminded yet again of Harry and Ron. She started to laugh.

To her great surprise, Snape chuckled a couple of times, covering his face with his hands. "I can never resist," he confessed with a smirk. "He is just so easy to bait when he's tired."

Hermione stood up and stretched. "I'm surprised you wouldn't want more of a challenge," she remarked. "Baiting Remus when he's tired is like shooting fish in a barrel."

He glanced up briefly in surprise. "I've no problem with that. If you shoot fish in a barrel, you're sure to catch one!" He bent back over his work.

Hermione let out what was meant to be a good-natured sigh, but ended up sounding more like an exhausted one. "Slytherins," she muttered. Snape smirked for an instant, without looking up, before frowning in concentration again.

She looked around at all of her books and papers scattered across the large, round table they all had worked at, and groaned. "Professor, would it be all right if I just left my things here for the weekend? I'll probably be down to work on them tomorrow, and it takes so long—"

Snape waved off her concern. "Far be it from me to slow you down on your research. Leave it until Monday, and save having to haul it all around with you in your bookbag."

Hermione thanked him and headed up to Gryffindor tower to get some sleep before their grueling day of study tomorrow.

Alas, Flitwick was little help, since the most effective charm he knew for splinter-removal was simply the summoning charm. Hermione didn't think that "Accio soul!" was likely to do much good in removing it from a Horcrux.

Dejected, she brought what little information she could find to their next brainstorming session.


	8. A Broad Approach

Halfway through that week, Hermione was thinking of Lupin. Specifically, she was thinking about Snape's teasing him about how short-lived werewolves are, and wistfully mulling over the problem of Lupin's lycanthropy.

She was sitting in Snape's office, where the three of them had been doing most of their work together. Snape was there, moodily doing his marking while they waited for Lupin. Hermione had been staring into space, pondering the Horcrux problem, before her thoughts turned to Lupin.

Suddenly she gasped and leaped to her feet. She scrabbled in her bag for a quill and some parchment, dragged one of the books across the table, and started making notes.

"Has inspiration struck?" Snape asked, in the driest of tones. "Or is this a nervous twitch that happens to you regularly?" He put down his quill and rubbed his eyes.

"Yes," Hermione answered both questions at once, not looking up from her note taking.

Snape cleared his throat pointedly.

Hermione glanced up. "Sorry, sir. It's just that one train of thought just coupled with another, and I have to get them both written down before I forget them." She flashed him a fleeting smile and bent her head back over her parchment.

He grunted. "So your trains of thought are 'coupling,' are they?" he replied, picking up his quill again. Quietly, not thinking she'd heard him, he added, "All my trains of thought on this project have been colliding, not coupling. Let's hope your coupling trains are able to spawn a couple of baby trains of thought for Lupin and me."

Hermione had heard him, and she grinned as she finished up her notes. "Baby trains, sir, for you and Remus? Full-size ones, surely."

Snape's quill stopped moving for a moment, but he did not look up. He appeared to give the matter a moment of serious thought. "A powerful engine for me," he replied, deadpan. "Perhaps a garden-sized circus train for Lupin." His quill started moving again.

Hermione snorted with laughter as Snape pulled out his pocket watch and looked at it. "Speaking of whom, where is the mutt?"

"I saw him talking to the Headmaster on my way here," Hermione answered. "But before he gets here, would you mind giving me your thoughts on my, uh, trains of thought?"

"Are you sure I want to hear stories of coupling in an adolescent's mind? Is this going to make me blush, Miss Granger?"

Miss Granger herself blushed as she vehemently shook her head. "No, sir. I was just thinking about removing the soul fragment from a Horcrux, and suddenly wondered whether it might be possible to remove the wolfish parts from a werewolf, leaving him human."

Snape folded his hands on his desk and gave Hermione his full attention. "Go on."

She put down her quill. "Well, it's the werewolf's saliva, isn't it, that contaminates the bitten human? It's like an infection. But in any case, it's just like the bit of soul or the splinter in that it's something foreign that's forcibly inserted where it doesn't belong. So if whatever method we find to remove the foreign soul or object from a person or article, doesn't it stand to reason that it would work for werewolf saliva as well?"

Snape's eyebrows drew together. "The logic seems sound," he said after a moment. "But I'm not sure Wolfsbane potion would be the way to go."

"No, because it only nullifies the psychological effects of the saliva, but leaves it intact. What we want is something that removes it entirely. Something that completely separates it …" Hermione's voice trailed off as her eyes went unfocused again.

Snape recognized the signs of deep thought by this point. He was amused by the blank, almost vacant expression in her eyes, which happened whenever she was actively engaging her remarkable intelligence. It was ironic that someone so smart should look so dumb when she was thinking hard, he thought with an inward smirk. He wished that were the case with the Weasley family, but knew to his cost that their vacant expressions really were genuine.

"Am I to be treated to another of your nervous twitches, then?" he asked calmly as he reached for the next roll of parchment to mark. "Going to make a wild leap for the ink-pot next?"

Her eyes refocused. "No, sir," she said seriously. "I like to save my wild leaps for the really big ideas."

She took a deep breath. "Professor, what about the slicing spell you showed me? Professor Flitwick mentioned something last week about its being possible to incorporate a charm into a potion. Why wouldn't it be possible to make a _sectumsempra _potion, which, when activated, would separate two things completely: the foreign matter from the original?"

Snape pursed his lips. "Sectumsempra isn't designed to separate foreign matter from original matter. It's designed to slice. Nothing more." He quirked his lips ruefully. "At sixteen, I lacked the imagination to want it to do much more than that."

"But you created the original spell. Couldn't you modify it fairly easily? I mean, the difficult work of creating it has already been done; now all you would have to do is tweak it a little."

"It might be possible," Snape admitted, running his forefinger around the outline of his lips. "I shall have to give it some thought."

"Oh good!" came a voice from the doorway. Lupin stood there, looking tired, but smiling. "At least one of us is having some thoughts."

"I hadn't started yet," Snape replied wryly. "I was just about to."

Lupin laughed. Hermione chuckled behind her hand.

Snape still said mean things to Lupin all the time, and even said the harmless things in a mean way, but she could swear the two of them were becoming friends.

"Actually, if you want thoughts, talk to Miss Granger here," Snape said. "She's having whole trains of them; so many they make her twitch. And why were you so late, anyway?"

"Albus caught me in the corridor and brought me to his office to see Kingsley," Lupin replied. He handed Snape three books. "He brought these from the Ministry for us."

Snape flipped rapidly through each book while Lupin exchanged greetings with Hermione.

"These are all useless," Snape announced.

"Really? Kingsley thought they'd be quite helpful."

Snape scoffed as he stood and came around the desk to the round table where the other two were. He read the book titles and tossed them one by one onto the table in front of the other two. "Magical Properties of Consciousness. Healing the Magical Soul. 'The Greatest of These is Love.' None of these are going to touch on our new approach to the problem."

"Yeah?" Lupin asked eagerly. "You mean we _have_ an approach now?"

As Snape began explaining what they had been talking about, Hermione sat down and pulled the books over closer. She flipped open Healing the Magical Soul only to discover that it was more about recovering from curses than about splicing a soul back together. She reached for "The Greatest of These is Love" thinking that Dumbledore's idea of love being the "power the Dark Lord knows not" might have some validity. She skimmed through it to find that Snape was right; it was more of a Trelawney-style marriage manual than anything else, with all that talk about "soul-bonding" and "soul-mates."

She came back to herself long enough to hear Lupin ask, "And you two think this will work just as well on a lycanthrope as on a splinter? You're both barmy."

"Not both of us. Just Miss Granger; after all, it was her idea."

Lupin raised an eyebrow. "Meaning no offense to Miss Granger, but do you really think we should be depending on a student for our entire strategy?"

Snape pursed his lips. "You're right, Lupin. We're grown men; at least one of us is a scholar, and she's only a student. Let's hear what you have to offer."

Put on the spot, Lupin stuttered. "I, uh, well, I don't really…"

"Exactly," Snape replied coolly. "Until you have a better idea, Miss Granger's theory is all we have to work on."

"But she was only supposed to be our amanuensis, Severus, so we wouldn't have to worry about documentation while we did experiments and all. Now I find out that she's the brains of the operation?" Lupin shook his head; his half-smile showing that he was only half-kidding.

Snape quirked an eyebrow and shrugged. "Well, she and I together form the brains. Which rather leaves you out, doesn't it? Tell me, Lupin, how's your shorthand?"

Hermione had said nothing during this exchange, but as Lupin sighed and reached for quill and parchment, she chuckled.

He gave her a dirty look, and she giggled. "Oh, never mind, Remus," she told him. "I'm sure you'll make a fine amanuensis for Professor Snape and me." He glared at her, but couldn't hold the expression. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he shook his head and dipped the end of the quill.

"Very well, _Professor_ Granger," Lupin said. "Start talking. I'm ready."


	9. Testing and Testiness

The next day Hermione bid goodbye to Ron and Harry. She and Harry hugged for a couple of minutes. "You be careful," she reminded him seriously.

He nodded. "Wish you could come with us," he said.

"I'll be doing my bit here, don't worry. You boys are the Horcrux-location team; I'm on the Horcrux-destruction team."

"We'll find them all, Hermione," Ron put in, loosening Hermione's arms from his friend's neck and pulling her into his own arms. "Harry an' me'll find them all in record time, you'll see."

Hermione chuckled. "And exactly what is the current record for finding Horcruxes, Ronald?"

Ron laughed. "All right, we'll _set_ the record, then." He pulled her close and hugged her tightly, and self-consciously dropped a kiss on her cheek. Releasing her quickly and blushing bright red, he muttered, "W-w-well, take care, then," grabbed his case, and headed out the door.

Harry stayed behind just long enough to share a grin and eye-roll with Hermione, quickly kiss her on the other cheek, and tell her not to let the dungeon-bat bother her too much. Then he ran after Ron and slammed the great door behind him.

"How touching," came a sarcastic voice from behind her, as Snape stepped into view.

Determined not to let him get to her, Hermione only smiled. "Wasn't it, though?"

"I found Mr. Weasley's stammering blush especially affecting. Ah, young love." The derision nearly dripped from Snape's voice as he approached.

Hermione was a little embarrassed, but then shrugged. "Meaning no disrespect, sir, but I doubt you were a paragon of self-possession either, at his age—especially with a girl you liked. Hardly anyone is truly confident at this age, and the ones that are, are usually just faking it."

To her amazement, Snape stared at her for a moment before dropping his gaze and flushing ever so slightly. "Touché, Miss Granger." He cleared his throat. "However, now that they're gone, perhaps we can actually get some work done. Lupin is downstairs in my office, quill in hand, ready to get started."

Hermione dutifully followed him down to the office, smiling to herself. It was just like Snape to try and blame Harry and Ron for the fact they hadn't made much headway yet!

Snape spent almost a fortnight modifying his "_sectumsempra_" spell, and then had to show off a little. He took Lupin and Hermione outside the castle, down to the Forbidden Forest. With one sharp word, he spelled a nail into the side of a tree.

"Now watch," he ordered them both. He waved his wand in a direct arc with a twisty flourish at the end, and said, "_Eximosempra_!"

The nail came flying out. Lupin caught it reflexively out of mid-air. "Very nice, Severus."

Snape snorted as he reached for the nail. "Don't say that yet," he said. "Look at the tree."

They peered closely and saw the small, round hole where the nail had been.

"What's the matter with that?" Hermione asked. "It's a small hole—I doubt it's going to harm the tree.

Snape quirked an eyebrow at her. "No? Well, then, it might not harm your friend Potter either. God knows he already acts as if he has a hole in his head."

"Oh," Hermione replied. She had forgotten about Harry's scar for a moment. "Is there some way to remove it and heal the wound, then?" she asked.

Snape raised his eyebrows mockingly. "Oh, what a brilliant idea," he said smoothly. "I never would have thought of that. What would we do without you, Miss Granger?"

"Well, for one thing, you wouldn't have thought to use your own spell, or modify it," Hermione replied with some asperity. "…Sir."

Lupin grinned. "She's got you there, Severus. So I'm assuming you've modified it to heal, as well as remove, then?"

Snape shrugged. "You'll have to stand back. It doesn't always work." He spelled the nail deeply into the tree again.

Hermione and Lupin took a couple of steps back, and Snape furrowed his brows in concentration. He brought his wand down in a diagonal arc this time, with a different end motion, and said, "_Saneximosempra_!"

The nail flew out of the tree as before, and Lupin caught it in mid-air and bent close to see the hole. It wasn't there.

"It's not there," Hermione said.

"How keenly observant you are," Snape sneered at her.

She grinned up at him, unbothered. "Thank you." She leaned closer to the tree, examining the surrounding area. "So does it happen at the exact same moment? Or immediately after?"

Snape shrugged. "Does it matter?"

She drew her brows together. "It might matter to Harry, how long he has a hole in his head. It wouldn't do much good to heal him after he's already dead."

"On the other hand, I wouldn't be pounding a nail into his head," Snape pointed out.

"No matter how much you might want to," Lupin teased.

Snape smiled a little. "Indeed."

Hermione nodded; it was a fair point. Something as intangible as a soul might not even make a hole at all. But she didn't want to risk Harry's life on an untested theory.

"How about inserting something gaseous into the tree, and seeing if your spell will extract it with no damage?" she suggested.

Snape nodded. "Good thought."

"Allow me," Lupin said, stepping forward with his wand. He waved it in a circle in the direction of the lake-edge, and then waved his wand at the tree as if he were poking it. "_Penitopello_," he incanted. "There, now. Try that."

Snape gave him a puzzled look, but stepped forward and cast _eximosempra_ again.

Nothing happened.

Snape frowned and repeated it. Then he tried the healing variation, the _saneximosempra_, and nothing happened.

"Huh," was Lupin's comment.

"Remus, what did you insert?" Hermione wanted to know.

"Marsh gas," Lupin replied. "We'd certainly smell it if it got out."

"Perhaps it needs a physical way out, like the nail had," Hermione remarked, thinking out loud.

Lupin shook his head. "It shouldn't. This isn't physics, Hermione. I infused the marsh gas into the living cells of the tree, so it would represent the infusion of a piece of soul into a living object. If the spell didn't work on the tree, then it won't work on Harry or Nagini." He glanced at Snape. "Sorry, Severus; looks as if we have to start over."

Snape glared at him and stalked away toward the castle. Lupin and Hermione followed at a slower pace.

"I'm not so sure we do," Hermione remarked thoughtfully. "The principle is sound, but it may be that the method of application needs to be different. Professor Flitwick was telling me about charmed and spelled potions last week. Perhaps the tree didn't respond to Professor Snape's spell because that's just not how trees work."

"Well, maybe," Lupin allowed, not quite following her train of thought.

"One thing I've learned is that the best sorts of magic are respectful to the natural order of things. Trees draw up their water and nutrients through their roots, and use it to sprout their leaves, blossoms, fruit, or what-have-you. It's unnatural for a tree to expel anything directly through its bark. So perhaps if we spelled a potion with Professor Snape's spell, allowed the tree to absorb it naturally, and then provide a more natural exit point…" Hermione's voice trailed off, her eyes going unfocused again.

Lupin just laughed. Taking her elbow, he said, "Come along, Miss Granger, let's get you back to the school so I'll have my quill handy for when you start doing that."

Hermione came back to herself and laughed. "Very well, Mr. Lupin. You do make a very good amanuensis, you know," she teased.

"Yeah, yeah," Lupin mocked. "I know all I'm good for is scribing for the brains!"

"And for testing," Hermione reminded him with a grin. "Don't forget you're our lab-wolf as well as our scribe!"

Lupin shook his head. "Boy, with friends like you and Severus, I hate to think how my enemies would treat me!"

Snape had paused to wait for them in the shade of Hagrid's hut. He stepped out now and sneered at Lupin, "They'd probably wipe out your mind to find out what you knew, and then torture you extensively before they killed you. Then they would perform Dark spells with your mortal remains."

Lupin swallowed. "Fair cop," he allowed.

"I'd wager a little teasing between friends doesn't sound quite so bad now, does it?" Snape mocked lightly as he fell into step with them across the lawn.

"Oh, so you're finally admitting that we're friends now, Severus? How very kind," Lupin teased.

Snape scoffed, but Lupin and Hermione exchanged grins and kept on ribbing him about what great friends they all were, all the way back up to the castle.


	10. Success and Serpents

Chapter 10

After another week, they had not only the new spell to test, but a prototype of the _sectumsempra_ potion as well. They each tested it on inanimate objects, and once tested it on a splinter that Snape had got from one of his lab tables. Lupin brought an aquatic plant in a vase from Professor Sprout, so they could test Hermione's theory of its being more effective with the plant drawing up the potion through its roots.

They all watched as Snape poured the potion into the vase full of water. "It will take a moment while the potion dilutes itself," he said as he stuck slivers of wood through all the leaves.

He watched with a critical eye as the potion mixed itself with water, and when it was all mixed he lifted his wand. "Mind your eyes," he told the other two, and then cast "_Saneximosempra_!"

Hermione turned her head away and shielded her eyes.

It took a moment or two, but all of a sudden the leaves started expelling the slivers of wood, one right after another.

Lupin caught one sliver out of the air directly in front of his face. "I'd say it works, Severus," he said. "Congratulations."

"Yes," Hermione agreed, trying to pull some slivers out of where they had lodged in her hair. "Ouch!" she muttered.

"Here, let me," Lupin said, reaching for her hair. "I can see what I'm doing better than you can.

"Oh, all right."

"My apologies, Miss Granger," Snape drawled, waving his wand to collect up all the tiny splinters from the floor. "I had not intended for you to be put into a position to be mauled by a werewolf."

Hermione giggled. Lupin growled at Snape.

"See?" Snape went on. "He's dangerous. But don't worry. I've had practice protecting you and your little friends from this particular werewolf, haven't I?"

"Yes, sir," Hermione said, wincing as Lupin tugged a little too hard on one strand. "And I appreciated it even though I didn't say so at the time. But you have to admit, he was a bit more feral then."

"I see no difference," Snape said with a malicious smile.

Hermione's eyes widened in outrage at the remark, but Lupin only chuckled. "I ought to bite you for that," he replied mildly. He gave Hermione's head a little pat. "There, that's done it. And you still have plenty of hair left."

Hermione grimaced. "Pity," she said. "It could have done with some thinning."

Snape frowned. "That would have been the true pity," he remarked. He took a flask of the potion from the table. "Well, come on. We still have to test it on something intangible."

As they left the room, Hermione hung back to whisper to Lupin, "Did I just hear him wrong, or did he actually compliment my hair?"

Lupin shrugged. "If it were anyone but Severus, I'd say yes, but—"

"Are you two coming?" Snape snapped from the stairway.

This time the test worked, and the three of them wrinkled their noses at the smell of marsh gas emanating from the tree.

"Well done again, Severus," Lupin complimented, holding a handkerchief to his nose. "What a lovely stench you've released."

Snape threw him a look. "I didn't release it personally," he corrected. "That's something more up your alley than mine."

Lupin snickered. "Yes, but it would be up my 'alley' anymore, would it, if I'd already released it?" He grinned.

Snape exchanged a pained glance with Hermione.

"Toilet humor," she groaned. "Do males really _never_ outgrow it?"

"Some of us do," Snape assured her.

Lupin laughed. "Sorry, Hermione. Hey, chaps, I think this calls for a celebration. Anyone up for a drink down the Broomsticks?"

"Love to, Remus, but I can't. Students aren't allowed off the grounds." Hermione gave him a regretful smile.

"Bugger, you're right," Lupin replied. "I keep forgetting you're still a student. Well, how about you, Severus?"

Snape considered. "Miss Granger should be celebrating with us, and I do have rounds tonight. Perhaps we should wait until the next Hogsmeade weekend."

Hermione shook her head. "Thank you, sir, but I would rather you and Remus go by yourselves. It wouldn't be as much fun for the three of us when there are 400 Hogwarts students milling around the village."

"Point," Snape conceded. "Very well, Lupin. When did you have in mind?"

"Now."

"Fine. Miss Granger, enjoy your evening off. No one works tonight," Snape ordered.

"Yes, sir," Hermione replied. "You two enjoy yourselves!"

The two men walked down to Hogsmeade together as Hermione climbed back up the castle smiling to herself. She drew near Hagrid's hut and decided to stop in for a little visit. As she approached, she heard a strange hissing noise. Hagrid's loud bark of laughter issued from his hut, followed by more hissing. Curious, Hermione knocked on the door.

There was another loud hiss, and then Hagrid opened the door just wide enough to peek through.

"Oh, hello, Hermione," he greeted. "Nice ta see yeh. Not a great time for a visit, though. Sorry."

"Hi, Hagrid," she replied. Playing a hunch, she asked, "Shall I come back later, then, when your snake has gone?"

Hagrid's jaw dropped. "How—How'd yeh know?"

Hermione smiled. "So it _is_ a snake, is it? May I see?"

Hagrid huffed a little at once again giving away a secret, and looked embarrassed. "Ah, well," he hedged. "The fact is, she's not my snake, per se. She's _his_. You have to promise not ter tell anyone. Only they might be scared 'cause she's so big, and 'cause she's _his_, and all."

He opened the door wider and Hermione slipped through…

…and stopped dead in her tracks.

"Hagrid?" she asked in a very small voice. "Is that…?"

Hagrid nodded, beaming. "Hermione," he said grandly, "Meet Nagini."


	11. Knowing Nagini

Chapter 11

Nagini was aging. She hadn't been a young snake when her master had found her. She had been enjoying a quiet middle-age of winters spent hibernating and summers spent hunting garden gnomes. She loved garden gnomes; there was something about those giggling little pests that appealed to her in every way. They gave her just the right amount of chase, and when she finally caught them, they put up exactly the right amount of fight; and when she swallowed them, they just hit the spot.

Then her master had found her, twenty years ago. At first it had been fun to talk with a legged-one who spoke her language, but then he started experimenting with her. Her body grew huge, her fangs enormous, her venom more venomous. Her master kept wanting her to do errands for him, to kill people for him, to spy for him. At first, she only did it when she felt like it, but after he did some spell that lodged a bit of his soul inside her mind, she could no longer tell him 'no.' His first command was to eat an already-dead muggle, and she could no longer refuse. She hated eating prey that was already dead! Especially large prey like humans; given her preferences, she'd much rather stick to garden gnomes. Large prey always gave her indigestion.

Lately, her master had been ignoring her. Ever since he'd been found in Albania and called her back to him, he had been more and more preoccupied with Death Eaters and world conquest. He had been neglecting Nagini. Where they had once been friends, she was now his unappreciated slave and venom producer.

She took to traveling through the Forbidden Forest by herself, hunting small, lively prey the way she used to. She would drop back in and visit her master from time to time, but whenever she did he would have another (literally) distasteful task for her. So she stayed away a lot these days.

It was on one of her nocturnal slithers through the forest that she'd encountered Hagrid. He was confusing. The air around him tasted somewhat like human, but not entirely, and he did not react to her as humans usually did.

They had almost bumped into each other. Hagrid had been striding along, crossbow over one shoulder, and Nagini had been following the path of one of the large spiders. She caught the scent of his warmth just in time, and reared back in surprise. Her head was almost level with his, and her tongue flickered out in surprised greeting.

He'd had a quarrel nocked and the crossbow aimed at her head before he could think, and then he blinked at her once or twice and lowered the crossbow.

"Oh, 'ello," he greeted cautiously. "New around here, are you?"

Nagini nodded her head, slowly. He still hadn't put the crossbow away, and she poised herself to strike should he lift it again. Knowing it was futile, as no one but Voldemort had ever spoken her language, she replied, "I was out hunting some live prey. Is it permitted? Are you the keeper of this forest?"

The half-giant chuckled and replied in parseltongue. "No, I'm not the keeper. I'm a regular visitor, though. Got a lot of friends around here. Who were you hunting, then?"

"One of the large, multi-legged ones with all the eyes. How is it you can speak my language?"

"Dunno, really." Somehow, Hagrid's accent and informal manner crossed over into his parseltongue as well. "Always have been able to talk to snakes. Never met one as big as you, though. You are a beauty, you are!"

Nagini flicked her tongue in pleasure and uncoiled herself just a little, so that her markings would show off better.

Hagrid put away the crossbow and bolt. "Here, what'd'yeh mean, 'live prey'? Don't yeh always hunt live prey? Oh, and th' name's Hagrid. Wot's yours?"

She dipped her head in a graceful approximation of a bow. "I am Nagini. I hunt what my master orders me to hunt, and eat what he orders me to eat. Only he is too busy for me lately, so I may hunt and eat as I choose."

"Blimey!" Hagrid exclaimed. "You're _his_ snake! You-know-whose!"

Nagini flickered her tongue. "Voldemort is my master. He speaks my language just as you do. Are you going to be my master now? Only you cannot; part of my master resides within me."

Hagrid shook his head. "You're a lovely lass an' all, but your master scares the scales off me."

Parseltongue had unique metaphors.

"An' why would I want ter be yer master, now? Yeh seem like a fine, clever snake. I'd be proud ter be yer friend, but it sounds as if yeh've had enough masters already."

Nagini liked this man. "I wish I could be rid of that part of my master residing within me; then I could hunt as I choose all the time. Many times, my master asks me to kill without eating, and many other times he wishes me to eat what he has already killed."

Hagrid reached out and patted her head sympathetically. "That's no good for a snake like you, is it? Yeh need to hunt fer yerself, an' eat live prey."

Nagini could have cried, if she'd had tear ducts. Finally, someone who understood!

"I've an idea, lass, only yeh'd have to promise me not to hunt or eat any of the two-legged ones around here. We have a large nest of young ones in the castle on the hill yonder, and we like 'em to grow up before they're hunted. If yeh'll give me yer word yeh'll not hunt any of the two-legged, then I'll offer yeh free run of the forest. An' at night, yeh can come up to the gardens and have a gnome-feast. Professor Sprout's been havin' an awful time keepin' 'em outta the greenhouses."

"Garden gnomes? Really?" If Nagini had had ears, they would have perked up. "I love garden gnomes! And I will give you my word freely not to hunt the two-legged; they give me indigestion anyway. Only if my master commands me to, then I am incapable of disobeying."

"Yeah, but if you stay in the forest, yer master won't know! Will he?" Hagrid grinned. "Come on, I'll show you the greenhouses. And you're welcome to stop into my house for a cuppa—or a rat, perhaps—any time you wish."

Hagrid hesitated, and then went on. "There's just one thing. I don't want anyone to know I can talk to snakes, so would you mind keeping that to yourself? I could get into an awful lot of trouble if some of the two-leggers found out about it. For some reason it ain't a popular skill."

Nagini flicked her tongue in amusement. "Who would I tell?"


	12. Informed Consent

Chapter 12

Nagini went home with Hagrid, and had not yet returned to Voldemort since then. Every so often, she felt that part of him in her mind ordering her to return, but since it was only 1/7 of his total power, she was able to resist. She had a fine time de-gnoming the greenhouses, and then cast her net a little wider and started on the vegetable gardens as well. She hadn't enjoyed herself this much in ages; not since before her master had returned. She only wished she could get rid of that nagging little voice in her mind, constantly hissing at her to return and do her master's bidding.

Hermione, listening open-mouthed to Hagrid's recounting of the story, got an idea. She slid off her chair and warily approached the giant snake. She spoke to Hagrid. "Would you translate for me? I want to ask her something."

Hagrid agreed, and Hermione addressed herself directly to the snake. "Nagini, my name is Hermione." She bowed her head a little, to be respectful—after all, she was well within striking distance!—and continued. "Hagrid tells me you have a part of your master's soul stuck inside you, that forces you to obey him. Is this true?"

Nagini hissed and nodded as Hagrid translated. "Yesss. I used to go where I willed, hunt what I wished, and answer to none of the legged-ones. I also used to be a normal size," she added, ruefully glancing down at her massive coils.

Hermione took a page from Hagrid's book and applied flattery. "Oh, but you are a lovely snake, whatever your size. And you seem much too clever to want to continue as someone's slave. I wonder whether you might be interested in something that might help remove your master from your mind?"

Nagini cocked her head, looking interested.

Hermione explained, "My friends and I are looking for a way to remove a piece of someone's soul from where it has forcibly inserted. We are on the right path, but have not yet arrived. We must test our ideas, but there are not very many living things that have the souls of others in them. Is there any chance you might be willing to help us find the right method?"

Hagrid interrupted. "Oh, is that what yeh're doing with Remus and Severus? Workin' out a way to help out Nagini?"

Hermione smiled. "If it works, it won't just help Nagini—it will help a lot of people. And it will free her from Voldemort's influence."

Hagrid translated this for Nagini, who thought about it. "You wisssh to tessst your ideas on me?" she clarified.

Hermione hesitated a moment, and then shrugged and nodded. "Yes. I won't lie to you, uh... ma'am," she added, not knowing what respectful address one should use with a snake. "There is a chance that these tests may harm you. We will, of course, make them as safe as we can, but we cannot promise your total safety. What we _can_ promise is that we will try our best to release you from your master without injuring you. And I feel I must also warn you that the people who are seeking to kill your master will also kill you if you are still housing a piece of your master's soul by that point."

Nagini considered. She turned her head and regarded her dark, iridescent scales, flicking her tongue out to taste the air around Hagrid and Hermione. They tasted like truth, she realized. Finally, she nodded. "I will help," she replied.

"Ah, that's a girl!" Hagrid complimented her in parseltongue. "What a fine, clever snake you are! A big, strong, beautiful lass like you shouldn't be kowtowing to a second-rate two-legger anyway! Just because he can speak your language doesn't make him worth your time, yeh know. No, Nagini, you just stick with Hermione here, and she'll steer you right. And then in the summer, just think about all the fun we'll have hunting in the forest together, and tramping around the lake, an' all. An' Hermione is one of the smartest two-leggers I know, so I'm sure that she and the others'll have you sorted in no time!"

The next day directly after classes, Hermione burst into Snape's office. "Professor Snape? Remus? Something wonderful has happened. We're going to be able to test the potion! I found the perfect test subject!" She was vibrating with excitement.

The two men looked at her, and then looked at each other, each with one eyebrow raised. "Think she'll explode if we keep her waiting?" Lupin asked calmly.

Snape huffed a small laugh and leaned back in his chair. He folded his arms behind his head and eyed Hermione.

She was nearly bouncing. "Come on, please! I have to show you both something! You're never going to believe it!"

Snape tossed some coins onto the table in front of Lupin. "Seven knuts says she can't go three minutes without grabbing one of us."

Hermione scowled and gave an exasperated sigh.

Lupin smiled. "Ten says the swearing will come before the grabbing."

Hermione growled.

Snape shook his head. "She's a prefect. She won't curse in front of a teacher."

"I'm right _here!_" Hermione ground out from between gritted teeth.

"Yes, we can see that," Lupin said with a sly grin.

"Will you two come _on?"_ She strode round the table and grabbed their arms. "I _said_ I have something to show you!"

"Oh, really, Hermione," Lupin complained. "You couldn't have cursed just once before you grabbed us? Now I owe Severus ten knuts."

"You should have just come with me to start with," Hermione said, hustling them along the corridor. She added a virtuous note to her tone as she added, "And you shouldn't be gambling anyway."

Both men grinned at each other, but looked innocent when she glanced suspiciously at them.

As they left the castle and headed down towards Hagrid's hut, she continued. "Now, I don't want either of you to get excited when you see the test subject."

"But evidently _you're_ allowed to," Snape commented acidly.

"Well, I almost wet myself when I first saw her," Hermione admitted with a smile, "But then I talked with her and she agreed to help us test the Horcrux potion before we try it on a human."

"She?" Lupin asked. "A she who can talk, but isn't human? Did Hagrid find you a jarvey, or what?"

"Or what," Hermione evaded. "Just, promise me that you'll listen to what she has to say before you dismiss the idea."

"All right," Lupin sighed.

Snape said nothing.

Hermione knocked on Hagrid's door.

Hagrid threw it open with a smile. "Ah, here yeh are! Come in, come in. She's just there." He pointed to the corner, where Nagini lay coiled up into a cone-shape, with her head swaying sleepily. It was obvious she'd been napping.

Lupin sucked in a terrified breath. Snape had his wand out and aimed at the snake, in less time than it took Lupin to gasp.

"Miss Granger," Snape growled, eyes fixed on the snake. "What is the meaning of this?"

# # #

Hermione had to do some fast talking to keep Nagini alive, even with Hagrid's parselmouth translation. It took several days after that for her to talk Snape around to the idea of testing the anti-horcrux potion on Nagini. After she figured out that his main concern was that the snake would betray him to her master, she gained the snake's promise that she would not. Hadrid translated the conversation.

"You know that I must answer if he asks a direct question, Severusss," Nagini hissed. "But I have learned through the years how to answer so that he does not suspect me. Unless he asks me directly 'Has Severusss been testing potions on you to remove my piece of soul?' then I can find some wiggle room—" and here she wriggled to demonstrate her point, "—and hide the truth to a large extent. Trussst me, he almost never asksss the right quessstionsss."

Snape frowned. He had seen this snake perform atrocities and was having trouble trusting her; true, she had performed them only at her master's orders, but she had never seemed bothered by it before. "So why would you be willing to work with _us_, who seek to overthrow your master?" he asked, wand at the ready. He had never _obliviated_ a snake before, but there was a first time for everything.

Nagini's hissing reply sounded petulent. "He makes me do thingsss I do not like doing. Just like you, Severusss. I have ssseeen you, you know. None of the legged-ones can tell, and you even have our master fooled, but I can taste your loathing of what you mussst do. It is the sssame with me. I do not like eating dead prey, or killing and then not eating, or even eating two-legged ones at all. No offense to you, but your kind always give me digessstive trouble."

Snape turned away to hide his smile. He suffered extreme moral outrage and self-loathing for the atrocities he was occasionally called upon to perform, while Nagini was mainly concerned about her bowels. The contrast amused him, but when conversing with a snake, what more could he ask for?

He turned back to her and nodded. "I will accept your help, then, with gratitude." He reached out his hand, slowly, and patted the side of her head. "And when he is overthrown, may you enjoy your freedom as much as I plan to enjoy mine."

"Agreeeed."


	13. Christmas: A Time for Friends

Chapter 13

They made rapid progress after Nagini agreed to become their test subject, and it wasn't even two weeks later that they had a prototype of the Horcrux potion to test.

"So where does your lab-wolf enter the picture?" Lupin asked with some trepidation, as he watched the final stage of their previous test on the tree. "Do I get tested before or after the snake?"

"After--"

"Before--"

Hermione and Snape had both replied at once.

Hermione frowned at her professor. "We should test it on Nagini first, just in case it doesn't turn out to be safe."

Snape shook his head. "That's exactly why we should test it on Lupin first, to see if it's safe for the snake."

"Sir, you can't be serious!"

"On the contrary, I can be. In this case, however, I am not. We'll test the snake first."

Lupin's relief was palpable.

There were still some adjustments to be made before they tested the potion on any living creature—'lab-wolf' _or_ giant snake. Before they knew it, they were into December.

Snape learned a charm from Flitwick that kept his office warm all the time, and Hermione, preferring the quiet of Snape's office to the boisterous Gryffindor common room, started coming down to do her homework while the two men worked. When she'd finished studying, she usually joined them, and continued their research.

She was running late on this particular evening, and Lupin took the opportunity that her absence presented him with.

"I'm worried about Hermione, Severus," he remarked, as he ground up some dried pimento with a mortar and pestle.

The other man gave him an inquiring look.

Lupin said, "She seems awfully cheerful for someone who just lost her parents a couple of months ago. She doesn't seem to be doing much grieving. Is it possible she just doesn't miss them that much?"

Snape chopped his roots thoughtfully for a moment before he responded. "Miss Granger has always been an avid student. She works hard in her classes, and when she isn't in class, she is usually down here with us, studying or working on our project. She is absent from this room only for classes, meals, evening rounds and prefect duties, and sleep."

He paused for another moment, and then added, "I would not be surprised to learn that she is conducting an Independent Study in History of Magic as well, to make up for the classes she has been missing while she works with us."

Snape's rundown of Hermione's study habits seemed like a non-sequitur, but Lupin knew him well enough by now to know that he never said anything that wasn't relevant.

He thought a moment. "So you think she might be drowning her grief in work?"

Snape nodded. "It's a time-honored method of coping with grief and loss. Miss Granger is here at school, away from her parents. She is not used to even thinking of them on a daily basis, because she is out of her home context.

"When she goes home for the Christmas holidays, she'll once again be where she is used to having daily interactions with them, and sharing family holiday traditions. I'm sure the enormity of her loss will hit her then. If she returns from her holidays unchanged and cheerful, I shall be very surprised.

"Then again, perhaps she'll opt to stay at Hogwarts for the hols this year. Or, sometimes the Weasleys have been known to take in strays." Snape slanted a glance at Lupin as if struck by a sudden thought.

Lupin interrupted irritably. "Don't say it! As it happens, I've been invited to the Tonkses for Christmas. And I'm not a stray!"

Snape said nothing, but he didn't have to; his smirk said it all.

They worked silently for a while, and then Lupin asked, "What are your plans for Christmas?"

Snape stiffened almost imperceptibly. "I'm looking forward to some blessed solitude," he replied. "As long as I don't get called by the Dark Lord, I'll be enjoying a peaceful and productive holiday without you around to get in my way."

Lupin laughed. "Well, if you get tired of all the peaceful activity, you can always visit Headquarters on Boxing Day. Dumbledore's hosting an Open House for the Order that day. Kingsley says they're sending some of the Hogwarts house elves over to help. Think about it—good food, plenty of booze, music, no deadlines, no work. Open all day for whoever wants to show up, for as long as they can stay. And no 'Order business' that day, either, barring an emergency. Dumbledore's rule."

Snape rolled his shoulders a little after chopping for so long, and nodded. "I may stick my head in briefly, but I doubt I'd stay longer than a few minutes. I'm not _that_ sociable."

"I should say not! Lupin laughed. "No, I was thinking of Hermione. With her parents dead and her two best friends gone, she's going to have an awfully lonely Christmas. I was thinking, if you didn't have any plans, the two of us could take her to the Order party on Boxing Day."

"Not a bad idea," Snape conceded. "Depending on what her plans are. But do you really think that a middle-aged werewolf and her least favorite teacher would really be able to impart much in the way of Christmas cheer?"

"Oh, I'm sure you're not her least favorite teacher. After all, there's always Sybil."

Snape smiled briefly." "True. At least Miss Granger has never walked out of one of my classes!" He pushed the roots aside to reach for Lupin's mortar and pestle, and then continued. "It's obvious she will need the support of friends when she goes home. I'm just not sure that you and I are qualified to help her in that capacity—and the Headmaster has no idea whether Potter and Weasley will be back for Christmas or not."

He handed the mortar and pestle back to his colleague. "These are still too big, Lupin; I need a fine powder. Put some muscle into it this time, will you?"

Lupin took it and went on pulverizing the contents. "Not sure we're her friends? Don't be ridiculous. Of course we're her friends."

Snape leaned one hip against the table and ran his hand through his hair, pulling it back and then letting it fall again. "I am her despised and reviled Defense teacher, and you're the one who called her a prim, pedantic little swot and wondered how much use she would be to us. If that qualifies as friendship, then perhaps I have more friends than I thought I did."

Lupin flushed. "I did say that, but now I know her better. I'm embarrassed about how wrong I was."

Snape nodded, with a faint gleam in his eye. "You can go ahead and tell me I was right, Lupin. You must admit, it was a stroke of genius on my part, to recruit that girl for this project."

Lupin laughed. "Oh, yes, Severus! You're a genius; I was wrong, and you were right all along! There, is that what you wanted to hear?"

"Music to my ears," Snape replied with a smirk. "So glad you finally admitted it."

Lupin sobered after a moment and then said. "I rather suspect that Dumbledore was thinking that with Harry and Ron gone, you and I would fill their vacant place in her life."

"You may be right," Snape replied dryly, "However, providing her with listening ears and hugs would doubtless be much more effective—not to mention appropriate—coming from those two, rather than us two. I really doubt whether Dumbledore really thought this through."

Lupin handed the mortar to him. "How is this?"

"Adequate. Barely."

"High praise, coming from you. Well, I'll ask Dumbledore tonight what he was thinking, then, shall I? He wants me to meet with Kingsley this afternoon, and then hear our progress report later on."

"Just you?" Snape asked sharply.

Lupin nodded. "He said he didn't need you or Hermione for this one. As I'm the one doing most of the writing for the Ministry, I should be the one meeting with Kingsley. He doesn't need you today."

"Good," Snape said firmly. "I have much too much to do, to go faffing about with the Headmaster."

"I'll tell him you said that, shall I?" Lupin asked with a grin.

"Do."


	14. Happy Christmas

Chapter 14

Hermione was of age in both the wizarding and muggle worlds, and therefore did not need a guardian during the holidays. She had set aside that time to deal with her parents' estate: will, business, house, and possessions. She met with their solicitor and discovered that as the only child of financially savvy parents she was going to be fairly well off—especially after she sold her parents' house and practice.

The buyer was an elegant blonde woman in her mid-twenties, named Pricilla Hardwicke. She and another dentist had recently split apart from their large former practice and decided to begin one together. Priscilla loved the house, the clinic, the garden, and indeed, the whole neighborhood.

Hermione liked her at once. Priscilla bought everything outright, but told Hermione she would always be welcome to come and stay there when she left school, until she got a place of her own. Hermione thanked her with a smile, but she knew she would not be returning to live in her parents' house again after the holidays.

For the first week of the holidays, Hermione threw herself into the task of sorting through her parents' things. She arranged to have the furniture auctioned off, except for a few pieces that she wanted to keep, and by the end of the week she had closed the door on her childhood.

That took her until a few days before Christmas. Then, with everything done and all her loose ends tied up, she went quietly and thoroughly to pieces.

And no one was there to pick them up for her.

She walked through the halls and rooms of her childhood home, her sobs echoing in the emptiness. Until this, she had been busy enough to forget the immediacy of her grief, but now there was nothing standing between her and the painful, stark reality that her loving parents were gone forever.

She forgot to eat. She sat on the couch with one of her Grandma Granger's homemade blankets around her shoulders, lost in nostalgia for when she was a little girl and the house always smelled of cinnamon during the Christmas holidays.

Her grandmother had died when she was in her first year at Hogwarts, so she felt as if she had never properly mourned for her either. Living so far away had disconnected her from her family and given her a sense of unreality about their deaths. Now, she was faced with a large, empty house, vacant and sterile, that used to be filled with harmony, love, and doting parents and grandparents.

Ordinarily she would have gone to the Burrow for the entire holiday, but this year she had turned down their invitation. She knew how much business she had to do with tying up the loose ends of her parents' lives. She hadn't realized how little time it would take her to pack things up with magic, and when it was all finished, she still had two days to go before she could join the Weasleys for Christmas dinner.

Hermione got her photo album out of her trunk and expanded it to full size. This was one of the prized possessions she had kept and shrunk to pack away. She opened it up and started crying again.

There they were, waving and smiling on the first page. Simon and Mani Granger had been a fair-skinned, late-fifties Englishman and a dark-skinned Aborigine woman in her early forties.

With a 16-year age difference, being an interracial couple, and coming from the opposite ends of the world, the Grangers had certainly faced their share of prejudice and criticism.

Hermione had been glad to discover, at age 11, that the wizarding world seemed fairly color-blind. Her parents _did_ raise eyebrows in Diagon Alley, but that was for being muggles, not for being interracial. She still remembered the horror she'd felt, when she discovered that in joining the wizarding world she had traded racial prejudice for pure-blood magical prejudice. Disillusioned, she had written to her parents, begging to come home.

Her mother had written back, a wise, calm reply. Hermione turned a few pages and pulled it out of the photo album. She opened it up and re-read what her mother had had to say.

"_It's human nature," _Mani had penned_, "to fear and feel threatened by what's different. So they have to convince themselves that 'different' equals 'inferior' so they don't risk being thought inferior themselves. It's all really just a pack of nonsense thought up by people with low self-esteem. _

"_Promise me you'll never buy into that rubbish. I know you won't—we've raised you to be conscious of injustice wherever and whenever it rears its ugly head. Your father and I know that you will do this magical community a lot of good, Hermione (I can't bring myself to call it a 'wizarding' community, my love, because doesn't that just discriminate against the witches?). Well, whatever you call your new world, know that we are both very proud of you. And if you ever get confused and start believing the tripe they try to sell you, dearest, just think of the very definition of your loving mum's name._

'Mani' was an Aboriginal name that meant "equal."

The words rang so true that Hermione dried her tears. Her mother's clear words of encouragement bolstered Hermione's mood like little else could have done.

After that, she was able to find some refuge from her grief in her beloved books. Not the ones she had brought with her from Hogwarts, not her textbooks, but in the muggle novels that she had grown up reading and had saved from being auctioned off. That kept her busy until Christmas Eve, when she went to church and stayed late afterward to accept all the condolences and well-wishes of her parents' social circle.

She woke on Christmas morning with a sinking feeling. Afraid to open her eyes, she kicked her feet toward the bottom of the bed and felt… nothing.

She had no presents.

She had a moment of sheer, panicky despair until she remembered that her gifts had probably been sent to the Weasleys; they had a family tradition of everyone opening gifts together.

Having given them an excellent reason not to stay with them for the whole holiday—having to take care of her parents' estate—she knew she wouldn't be allowed to beg off going to Christmas dinner and presents.

Christmas at the Burrow was a little strange without Ron there. Hermione felt out of place. She had never felt completely comfortable there anyway—there was always too much noise and activity for her tastes. Growing up an only child of older parents had given her an appreciation for solitude and privacy that went against the grain of the Weasley's family culture.

They were friendly enough, to be sure. Hermione was greeted with hugs and glad shouts of welcome. The house rang with laughter, noise, and activity.

In the midst of it all, Molly found a few minutes to spend with Hermione. She hugged the young woman tightly and expressed her sympathies once again for the loss of her family. Arthur took her aside later and told her that no matter what might or might not ever happen between her and his son, she would always be considered a member of the family and as welcome as any of the ginger-haired Weasleys.

Hermione smiled and hugged the older man, thanking him with a voice that broke. She appreciated the sentiment, but at the same time, she couldn't help but resent it a little. The Weasleys were all good, but they weren't _her_ family. No one could ever take the place of Mani Granger's lively wit and outspoken nature. Molly Weasley meant well, but she was nothing like Hermione's mother.

Nor was Arthur anything like her father. Simon Granger had been the best dentist in the city. Where Arthur came across as hen-pecked and diffident, Simon had been a strong, decisive individual. His quiet strength had perfectly balanced out his younger wife's more ebullient, occasionally strident personality.

No, the Weasleys were nice in their way, but they were no substitute for Hermione's real family. They also, she realized, all had the same family habit of trying to fit other people into their own molds. She had noticed that tendency in Ron and in his mother, but today when everyone was opening presents, she had a prime opportunity to observe it to some extent in every ginger-headed member of the clan.

Hermione's presents were a bit "young" for her tastes, including the glittery pink jumper that Mrs. Weasley had knitted for her. She swallowed her sigh and pasted on a smile, resolving to pass them along to someone else as soon as she could. The magical gifts—the gags from Fred and George, the Quidditch tickets from Ron and Harry (who had owled their gifts from an unknown location), and the "Witch Weekly" magazine from Ginny—only went to point out to her all the ways she was unlike them. Molly wanted to keep her young and become a mother to her; Fred and George thought she was too serious and wanted to "liven her up a little." Ron and Harry thought she should have more of an appreciation for Quidditch, and Ginny thought she should spend more time thinking about her looks.

In a way, every single gift from them was a criticism.

After dinner, when many of the younger crowd ran outside to try a little Quidditch practice, Hermione stood in the doorway and just watched them. Their family was so different from hers that no matter how welcome they made her, she knew that in her heart she would never consider _herself_ part of their family. She was grateful for their sentiments, but at the same time she felt a little put out with them for trying to take the place of her own parents.

No one ever could. The Grangers were a small, quiet, loving but dignified family. Nothing like the Weasleys. And without Ron there, Hermione felt a little left out. Ginny, constantly trying to outdo her older brothers, was out there on the Quidditch pitch laughing and taking risks just like they were (and trying to distract herself from Harry's absence as well, Hermione suspected), and Hermione went back into the living room to read.

Everyone came in from the Quidditch match pink-cheeked and laughing, wafting in gusts of cold air as they shed their jackets and blew on their hands. Hermione put up with the noise as long as she could, but developed a splitting headache soon after everyone came in and was glad to leave.

She returned to her dark, empty, echoing house and went straight to bed.

* * *

_Author's note: After reading DH, I wondered why Hermione would have thought to send her parents to Australia - did they have family there, or what? Then I started wondering about Hermione's strong sense of injustice, as evidenced by S.P.E.W., and wondered what her parents would have to be like, in order to instill her with that sort of character. If you think about it, an interracial marriage - particularly where one party is from Australia - makes sense. So if you're offended by the idea of interracial marriages, well, tough cookies. And if you're more familiar with Australia, Aborigine language, etc. than I am and spot any inconsistencies, feel free to let me know about them. Thanks! And as ever, please review. Next chapter is on its way in a few days._


	15. Tying up Loose Ends

Chapter 15

The next morning, Hermione awoke feeling much better. She woke up early, but didn't get right up. She stretched and lay in bed luxuriating in the fact that she had no deadlines to meet, no work to do, and nothing planned for the day. She decided right then and there to finish the last of the packing that morning and then head back to Hogwarts for the rest of the holidays. Rattling around alone in the large, empty house was too depressing.

She took a long bath instead of a shower, and took some extra time to tend to some of her beauty rituals that had fallen by the wayside during the year. "Ginny would be so proud," she muttered sardonically as she finished exfoliating and stated to rinse.

Her hair took longer than usual, too. She had been neglecting it for too long. She liked her hair, all bushy and full of tight z-curls like her Aborigine mother's, but when she didn't take care of it properly it took on a very dry and frizzy texture and started to lock together. So today she took her time, massaging jojoba oil all through it until it had all soaked in, and then combing her brown curls until they gleamed.

She looked at herself in the mirror. "If only the boys could see me now," she muttered. "Professor Snape wouldn't be the only greasepot in town anymore!"

From what she'd learned about her own hair care, she suspected that Snape's hair was greasy _not_ because he washed it too little, but because he washed it too often. She knew from experience that the more you wash your hair, the more sebum your scalp produces, and the more you _have_ to wash your hair to get the sebum out. She'd been working very closely with Snape for months now, and knew he bathed every day; she was willing to bet he washed his hair every day as well, possibly more than that. That was simply too often for fine, straight hair like his. He should start cutting down on how much he washes it, she thought, and pretty soon his scalp would adjust and would stop producing so much oil.

She smiled at her reflection when she noticed that her curly, fluffy hair was even the same color as her mother's. People in England usually assumed that Mani had dyed her hair, because it was so rare for Black people not to have black hair. But no—her mother's hair had been brown, with red highlights and even a blonde streak. Aboriginal people did occasionally have naturally blonde or red hair. Hermione turned her head and noticed her own red highlights and the faint glimmerings of a blonde streak, and smiled. It was like having a piece of her mother with her all the time.

Bathing and breakfast took her until after nine. She made herself a full-fledged fry-up with sausages, eggs, tomatoes, and mushrooms, the likes of which she hadn't been able to get down for ages. It was hard to eat at Hogwarts, when most of the others in her year were paired up and sat together, and her two best friends were gone. She had never had any close friends in Gryffindor except for Harry, Ron, and Ginny. Ginny was seeing Seamus Finnegan now, and had little time for her swotty friend.

After breakfast, she went around and finished packing everything up. She shrunk her bed and the last of the furniture she was keeping, _evanesco'ed_ the refrigerator, shrunk it, and shoved it all into her school bag. She left out her father's favorite armchair, and when she was finished with everything else, she sat down in it and _accio'd_ a book from her bag.

She was almost halfway through _Shades of Grey: Soul Magic Through the Ages_, when the doorbell rang. She jumped a little, startled, and then quickly went to the door. Wand in hand, she called, "Who's there?"

"It's me, Remus," came Lupin's voice.

"Ah, hello, Remus," she replied, still not opening the door. "Identify yourself."

Lupin chuckled. "Good girl," he applauded. "Let's see… I make a better amanuensis than you do; I took the splinters out of your hair during the first plant experiment; and the third member of our team has a secret weakness for the occasional _croque-monsieur_ late at night."

Hermione grinned and opened the door. "Yes, but can you blame him? They're delicious. Come in, Remus."

He came in, rubbing his hands together to warm them.

"Tea?"

He shook his head. "Not just now, thanks. I've come to kidnap you, and we shouldn't stay that long."

"Kidnap me?" Hermione asked, amused.

He nodded. "For the Order's Open House at Headquarters today. Severus sent me on ahead to fetch you, and I don't want to put up with his whinging if he has to be kept waiting."

"Oh! I didn't know I was invited. I was planning to head back to Hogwarts today."

"Well, come and spend the day with us at Headquarters, and then we can all go back to Hogwarts together. Unless you had other plans?"

She shook her head. "Not really. I was planning to pack things up and close the house, and I've already done most of that. Give me twenty minutes and I'm your girl." She went back into the other room to pack up her father's old armchair.

He chuckled. "I hope you only mean that in the platonic sense, because I already have a girl."

Hermione stuck her head back around the corner. "Well, naturally. What, you think I have a death wish? Your girl's an Auror, for heaven's sake! She'd kill me!"

Lupin laughed, and busied himself washing up Hermione's breakfast dishes with a quick spell, and putting them away.

"And besides," Hermione called from the next room. "You're like my big brother, Remus—I'd no sooner pursue you as I would Harry or Ron. It would be too…"

"Too…?" he asked.

"Too icky," she said with distaste. "Not that you're not handsome and all, but you're all just way too brotherly for my tastes!" She came in and put her bag on the table, where it made a curiously heavy _clunk_.

"I notice you didn't mention 'too old' for your tastes, though," Remus teased. "Now, why would that be?"

Hermione smiled sadly. "I don't think age matters that much, when two people are compatible in other ways. I wish you could have met my parents; they'd have proven it to you."

"Your parents had an age difference?" Remus asked.

She nodded. "Sixteen years. And they complemented each other in ways you couldn't imagine."

"Oh, I think I can," Remus said thoughtfully. "Tonks and I get along like that, and we have an age gap as well."

"Pfffff. A measly nine years. That's nothing," Hermione scoffed playfully as she shrunk and stowed her father's armchair. She glanced around the room. "There, now," she said. "All my furniture's in there. Now I just need a few minutes to get ready and finish my hair, and then I'll be all set."

She wove her gleaming, still oily hair into a French plait, and put on a pair of her mother's favorite earrings. Mani had loved theatre, so Hermione had kept her comedy/tragedy mask earrings. She put on some black jeans and a comfortable purple knit jumper over her new t-shirt that she had charmed. She _Vanished_ the ratty old jeans and t-shirt she had just taken off, and made one last walk-through of the house.

Just as she was returning to the kitchen, the doorbell rang again. She ran down the stairs. She peeked out the peep-hole, and then smiled and opened the door.

A blonde woman stood there wearing a red coat and a smart black hat. "Happy belated Christmas, Hermione," she said.

"Priscilla, hello!" Hermione replied. "Come in, come in. We were just on our way out, but if there's anything you need…"

"Oh, no," Priscilla replied. "Just came by to deliver the paperwork on the house and bring you a little prezzie to say thank you for everything." She handed Hermione a tin of chocolate biscuits and a little gift bag.

"Oh, thank you!" Hermione said. "I'm sorry; I didn't get anything for you."

Priscilla waved aside her apology. "You've done more than enough already, Hermione." She looked curiously at Lupin.

"Oh, Priscilla, this is my good friend, Remus Lupin. Remus, this is Priscilla Hardwicke, the dentist who has just bought my parents' house and practice."

Lupin and Priscilla shook hands and murmured greetings.

"Well, as long as you're here," Hermione said. "I may as well give you these." She handed her the house keys. "I've got all my things out, and Remus was just about to escort me back to school. So you can take possession of the house… well, immediately, if you'd like. I won't be back."

"Well!" Priscilla was stunned. "That was some quick work, girl! As long as you're sure…"

"I am. I won't be back."

"Well, then, thank you. And do feel free to stop by and see us sometimes," Priscilla invited. As Hermione and Lupin moved toward the door, she said, "It was nice to meet you, Mr. Lupin. Take good care of this young lady, now."

Lupin nodded and touched his hat, then offered his arm to Hermione and escorted her down the street.

"I think she thinks we're 'together,'" Hermione giggled as they stepped into an alley to Apparate. "Like I really am 'your girl.'"

Lupin shrugged. "It's a compliment to me if she does, old wolf that I am. You're even younger than Tonks. But we should get going. Side-along, or meet you there?"

"Meet you there," she said, stepping into a graceful pirouette before disappearing with a _crack!_

Lupin did the same thing, and they both popped back into existence just outside 12 Grimmauld Place.

"Speaking of your girl," Hermione said, picking up the thread of conversation again, "Is Tonks going to be there?"

He shook his head. "Probably not for long, if at all. She has to work today."

Hermione pretended to be shocked. "What, an Auror working on Boxing Day? You mean Dark wizards don't take a few days off to celebrate the birth of Christ?"

Lupin laughed. "Nope. Imagine that!"

The house was quiet when they entered. "Where is everyone?" Hermione asked as she hung up her coat and smoothed her hair.

"A couple of the older folks made their appearance this morning, but usually the younger generation don't start popping in until afternoon. Albus was up all night getting things ready; I think he's napping in the study."

"Where's Professor Snape?" she asked. "I thought he'd be here drumming his fingers impatiently until we got back." They wandered into the kitchen. "Tea?"

"Please. Severus got delayed at Hogwarts, but Minerva said she wouldn't keep him long." Lupin rummaged through the cupboards and then made a noise of triumph and pulled out a covered plate.

"Molly's scones! We can have these with our tea."

Hermione handed him the biscuit-tin from Priscilla. "These, too. And there's some clotted cream in the gift bag."

"Right. Pour out, then."

Hermione sat down diagonally across from Lupin and poured the tea. She couldn't help but remember last summer, sitting across from Professor Snape at that same table as he clutched her hand in an agony of remorse.

"So how has your holiday been?" Lupin asked. "I know it's your first without your parents. Have you been all right?"

Hermione was quiet for a moment, crumbling her scone absently. "I'm glad you came to get me," she said. "I've been so busy with everything—school, NEWTS, the Horcrux project—and then at home, taking care of their estate, doing the banking, packing things up, talking with the solicitor—I haven't had much time to just sit and _be,_ if you know what I mean. To miss them."

Lupin nodded. "Severus and I suspect that would be the case. We've been concerned about you."

She smiled suddenly. "It seems strange to be spending time with just you and not him."

Remus took a sip of tea and with a Snape-like deadpan, offered, "Well, if you miss him that much, I can always be bad-tempered for you."

She laughed. "No, I wouldn't want to put you to the trouble for my sake. It wouldn't be the same, anyway."

"Not sure I could even do him justice," Lupin said. "Far better to hold out for the real thing. He should be along pretty soon."

"Oh, good! Then I can give you both your Christmas presents."

"Probably a good idea, before everyone else gets here."


	16. Creevy's Contributions

Chapter 16: Creevy's Contributions

Lupin and Hermione heard the faint noise of the floo activating in the next room, and a moment later Professor Snape appeared in the doorway.

"Oh, good morning, Professor," Hermione greeted.

He grunted a monosyllabic reply, and then saw the teapot in the centre of the table. "Ah. Tea. Good." He pulled out the chair across from Hermione and sat down.

Hermione poured him a cup and fixed it the way he liked it, and slid it across the table towards him. Their eyes met briefly, and for just an instant, she knew they were both remembering the last time they had sat at that table together, holding hands, with him weeping behind his hair. He held her gaze long enough for the expression in his own eyes to soften ever so slightly, then he blinked, picked up his tea, and took a sip.

"Not a morning person, Severus?" Lupin teased him about his monosyllabic remarks.

He did not even dignify the question with a response; he simply glared at Lupin over the rim of his teacup.

Lupin laughed. "I guess that answers my question. Good thing it's almost noon. Well, when you've awakened enough that you can at least be civil, we were going to exchange Christmas gifts."

"Actually, Remus, I can give you yours now," Hermione said. "Just in case Professor Snape doesn't rally in time." She reached into her bag and pulled out a small flat box, which she then _engorgio'd_ back to full size. "Here you are," she said, handing it to him.

He took it and untied the ribbon. The box fell open and he pulled out a t-shirt. "Oh, it's a muggle shirt. Thank you, Hermione!"

She smirked. "It's not just any old muggle shirt, Remus."

"Oh?" he unfolded it and held it up against his chest. It was black, with a bright yellow smiley face on it. The smiley face had bushy, mutton-chop whiskers and the caption read "Have a nice day night!"

Lupin looked confused.

Hermione explained. "I charmed it to show how far from the full moon you are at any given time. At the new moon it has no hair at all, but as the lunar month progresses, the face grows more and more hair."

Lupin raised his eyebrows, impressed. "I see. That's some fairly advanced charm work, Hermione."

She shrugged. "Thank you, but it wasn't really that much. Just a bit of fun, really. They were all rather fun."

"All?"

"I made t-shirts for all three of us."

"Including Severus?"

She nodded.

"This I have to see."

Snape had, at that point, drunk enough tea so he could at least tease Lupin coherently. "What a useful tool this will be, Lupin," he said smoothly, "to help you keep track of your time of the month. In case the pre-_moonstrual_ tension escapes you."

Lupin glared at him. Snape smirked into his teacup. Hermione giggled.

"Here, Professor Snape," Hermione said, handing him another _engorgio'd_ box from her bag. "This one is for you.

"He won't wear it," Lupin said. "Severus never wears muggle clothes."

Hermione only shrugged. "I have a feeling he may wear this one."

Snape gave her a sharp look, but opened his gift without a word.

It was another black t-shirt, but with long sleeves. Lupin caught a flash of bright yellow as Snape unfolded it, but not long enough to see what it said.

Snape spread it out on the table to see the front, and grinned. Then he took a quick peek at the back and laughed out loud. He glanced up at a smirking Hermione. "You should have made a bet with him, Miss Granger," he said. "You'd've won it."

"No!" Lupin protested. "It can't be _that_ good!"

"Much as I hate to praise a Gryffindor, I must disagree. In point of fact, it is '_that good'," _Snape replied. "In fact…" Without another word, he stood and unbuttoned his overshirt. He shrugged it off and draped it over the back of his chair, and then pulled the black t-shirt on over his head. He reached behind his neck and pulled his hair out of the neck-hole.

Then he lowered his arms so Lupin could see the shirt.

The other man started laughing. "Perfect!" he crowed. "Abso-bloody-lutely perfect!"

It had a large, round, yellow face on it like Lupin's shirt had, but this face wasn't smiling. Oh, no. This face wore a dark, ferocious scowl, and was surrounded by flowing, black robes. It was mouthing the words in the caption: _"I don't care what kind of day you're having. Either be silent, or begone!"_

Hermione said, "Turn around, Professor, and show him the back."

Snape turned. The back of his shirt featured the same angry face, mouthing the captioned words, _"Didn't you hear me? I said, bugger off!"_ and then it turned its back in a swirl of robes, and stormed off through a wooden door that appeared just in time.

"I ought to be appalled by such shocking language from a young lady like yourself," Snape remarked mildly as he took his seat again. "But I find the sentiments so accurate that I simply can't be. Especially as I plan to wear it to my next meeting with the Headmaster."

"What about you, Hermione? You said you made one for each of us," Lupin said.

Hermione pulled her jumper off over his head, and then had to pull her t-shirt back down where it had ridden up a little over her belly. She looked to see their reactions.

Lupin was reading the shirt and smiling, but Snape's eyes were locked on her waistline and he had a somewhat startled expression on his face. She flushed, knowing he had seen her accidental flash of skin.

He flashed his eyes up to meet hers for a split second. Self-consciousness sparked between then just for an instant, before he blinked and looked at her shirt.

Her own shirt was dark blue, with elbow-length sleeves. Its yellow smiley-face seemed friendly as it told everyone to "Have a nice day!" but then it buried its nose in a book and continued in smaller letters, "…and don't bother me!"

"Nice," Lupin applauded.

"Frighteningly appropriate," was Snape's thought.

"Thanks!" She beamed.

"Hermione, here's my gift," Lupin said as he handed her a large, flat package. "And Severus, here is yours." He handed him an identical one.

They both opened them at the same time. Snape only nodded his thanks impassively, while Hermione gasped with delight. "Oh, Remus, this is wonderful! Where did you get this?"

"I had to confiscate Creevy's camera when he charmed legs onto it and sent it into the girls' dorm. I hadn't realized he'd caught us at work."

Lupin had given them both the same thing: a magical photograph of the three of them working together in Snape's office, gathered around the table. Hermione and Snape were deep in some academic discussion, Hermione's hands gesturing actively, while Snape argued his point with a headshake and showing her a passage in a book. Lupin was busily taking notes on the discussion.

"Oh, I remember that! That was when Mr. Filch caught Colin trying to document the 'Ways of the Slytherins,' and taking pictures of Parkinson and Bulstrode playing Gobstones," Hermione giggled. "I remember him showing up at the door, and seeing the look on his face when he saw us all there together. He looked so shocked, you'd have thought we were doing something naughty!"

Lupin laughed. Hermione pushed back her chair and went around the table to hug him. "Remus, thank you so much! I love this. Look at us! It's so… well, it's so _us,_ isn't it?"

"I thought so," Lupin said smugly. Hermione left one arm around his shoulder, and he patted it affectionately.

"Yes, yes, it's very nice," Snape said impatiently. "Here, Lupin, you'd better take this." He stood up and fished a small envelope out of his pocket to pass to Lupin.

Lupin opened it up and smiled, pleased. "Cannons tickets! Thank you, Severus!"

Snape sniffed. "They're bound to lose to the Harpies again, and I want you to have the chance to see them do it."

He pulled out another small parcel and touched it with his wand until it was full-sized again. "Miss Granger, when you've finished slobbering all over the werewolf, you may be interested in this."

Her parcel was large and flat, and wrapped in brown paper. Hermione took the parcel and thanked him with a smile. She tore the paper open, saw what was inside, and burst into tears.

It was a photo of her parents, taken only last year. They were looking into each other's eyes with a loving smile. That would have been pleasant enough, but it was also a magical photo. As she looked at it, they faced each other and gave each other a brief kiss, and then turned and smiled at their 6th-year daughter who came running up and threw her arms around them.

Magical photos show subtle changes of expression that Muggle still photos sometimes cannot convey. Hermione loved seeing the soft look in her parents' eyes as they kissed, the contented smile on her father's face as he hugged her, and the tears of joy and pride in her mother's chocolate eyes as she opened up her arms to her daughter.

Snape was taken aback by her tears. "I'm sorry, Miss Granger. I thought you would like it."

Hermione nodded hard, still crying too hard to speak. She launched herself at him and threw her arms around him. She buried her face in his chest and cried.

Snape's eyes widened in alarm, and met Lupin's gaze over Hermione's head. The look on the werewolf's face was not derisive or condemning, though. It was sympathetic and compassionate, and Snape felt emboldened to gradually slide his arms around the girl's shoulders and pat her back.

Hermione felt his tentative pats on her shoulder and realized that it was _Snape_ holding her, comforting her. The thought of his hugging anyone struck her as so un-Snapelike that it startled her out of her grief. She slowly regained control of herself and quieted. She accepted the plain white handkerchief Lupin tucked into her hand, gave Snape one small pat on the back, and withdrew to take her seat on the other side of the table again.

"Sorry, Professor. I didn't mean to attack you like that—it's just that it's the best gift I've ever received. Thank you so much! How on earth did you get a magical picture of them?" Hermione wiped her eyes.

Snape shrugged. "Creevy again. Last year. That was on the roll of film I confiscated when he thought it would be entertaining to try to take some 'candid' photos of his professors."

Hermione gave him a watery smile.

Lupin raised his eyebrows. "What did he catch you doing?"

Snape grimaced in disgust. "Laughing at one of Minerva's jokes."

Lupin chuckled. "I'm assuming Minerva backed you up in confiscating the film?"

"Hell, yes. She didn't want any more photographic evidence of telling a joke than I wanted of laughing at it."


	17. Dumbledore's Diversion

Chapter 17: Dumbledore's Diversion, with Dancing and Drinks

The party at Grimmauld Place ebbed and flowed, depending on who was there. Dumbledore woke up mid-afternoon and shuffled into the sitting room. He waved his wand and widened the room, sending the furniture scuttling off to the corners. With a flourish, he started some charmed music playing. It was loud, and soon people began to dance. Dumbledore surprised everyone by dragging Madam Pomfrey out into the middle of the floor and doing an amusingly energetic Charleston with her.

Dumbledore had made sure to not only stock the liquor cabinet, but to create a wet bar as well. He pressed Snape into service as a mixologist—"Potioneers always make the best drinks, after all!" as he said—and made sure the buffet table was kept well supplied.

He amused himself by changing the music to suit each person's arrival, like his or her own personal fanfares. "I've always wanted to give everyone these songs!" he announced with glee. So when Lupin came into the room, "Hungry Like a Wolf" started playing, and Tonks' brief cameo was announced with a disco-rendition of "I'm so Excited."

"Hey!" She said. "Cool!" and started dancing with Lupin. Lupin was a child of the 70s, after all, and Hermione couldn't stop laughing at his disjointed, Travolta-like moves.

He was panting and grinning when the song ended and he and Tonks came over to where Hermione was leaning on the bar while Snape was mixing Dumbledore a drink.

"How did I do?" he asked breezily.

"Splendid!" Hermione applauded.

"Dreadful!" replied Snape at the exact same time. "You're an embarrassment to our entire generation."

"You tell him, Severus!" Tonks teased.

"Oh, and I supposed you could do better?" Lupin said, with a creditable attempt at the trademark Snape Sneer.

"Of course," Snape replied as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Well, then," Lupin challenged. "Have at it."

Snape scoffed. "I wouldn't disco-dance if my life depended on it," he replied. "And you know, my life has occasionally depended on some pretty damned humiliating things. But it's not just you. It's that whole style of music that's an embarrassment to our generation."

"All right, then. Get Albus the DJ to put on whatever music you won't be embarrassed to dance to, and we'll see how you do."

"Fine." Dumbledore, smiling, waved his wand just as Snape came out from around the bar. "Paint it Black" started playing, and Snape glared at the Headmaster.

"Now, really, Dumbledore!" was all he said, before pulling the old man aside and speaking quietly into his ear.

Hermione didn't know the song that well, but Lupin did, and he snickered. "Pity he can't dance to this. It's really more of a lifelong theme for him, though."

Snape came back a few minutes later, as the familiar opening vocals of a Seal song began playing.

"Now, then," he said, turning to Hermione and Tonks. "Do either of you know the Viennese? It'll be a bit slow, but… "

"Nope," Tonks replied. "You know me, Severus. I don't do so well at dances that have actual steps to them."

Hermione shook her head. "I know a basic box-step waltz, but that's it."

Snape frowned for a moment, and then pulled out his wand. He made a little circle with it, and then poked it toward Dumbledore, who was watching with interest. He must have done a nonverbal spell, Hermione realized when the tempo slowed ever so slightly.

Snape held out a hand to her. "In that case, Miss Granger, may I have this dance?"

She put her hand in his and followed him nervously out onto the floor. He drew her into a classic dance position, paused for the downbeat, and then stepped forward on his left foot.

Hermione stepped back on her right, and almost stumbled. She caught herself as they completed the box.

It took several more complete box steps for her to lose her self-consciousness at the fact that she was dancing with her professor, but after that she settled into the rhythm of the music.

She might have known Snape would change things up a little just as he saw her getting comfortable. He started to lead her into a promenade, but she didn't follow.

"Relax," he hissed. "You're still too stiff. And stop staring at your feet."

"I can't help it. I don't know what you're going to do next, and I don't want to step on your toes."

"My toes are my problem," he assured her. "If I don't move them fast enough, it's my fault if they get stepped on. But you must relax. You're making this much harder than it needs to be."

He turned them as they completed another box, and then spoke again. "Close your eyes," he ordered.

"What?" she opened them wide.

"Shut your eyes and let my arms and body telegraph the steps to you. Believe it or not, you _can_ trust me. I won't let you fall, or run you into anything. Just try it. Close your eyes."

Hermione closed her eyes. With the visual distractions minimized, she suddenly began to notice other details. The words of the song seemed clearer (though she was inwardly amused at how morbidly romantic his choice was!), and the spicy, musky scent of Snape's shaving treatment was sharp in her nostrils.

She also noticed that he was right. It was far easier to follow his steps with her eyes closed. The grip of his hand shifting on hers, the slight pressure of his other hand on her back, and the angle of his torso all provided very clear cues that led her gradually into more complex steps—including the promenade that she had initially balked at.

When the song ended, she heard clapping. She opened her eyes in wonder, only to see that Dumbledore, McGonagall, and several unknown Order members had joined Lupin and Tonks. Another couple had even joined them on the floor without her knowing it.

Snape held her hand as he escorted her back, as was proper. "Thank you for the dance, Miss Granger," he said, slipping back behind the bar.

"My pleasure, sir. Thank you for asking me."

With the social niceties observed, Snape raised an eyebrow at Lupin. "Well?"

"Ten out of ten on the dancing. Eight out of ten on the style choice; after all, a waltz is timeless, but considering you complained about 'our generation,' I would have thought you'd choose something more current."

Snape opened his mouth to reply, but Lupin continued, "Six out of ten on the music. Honestly, Severus. Graying towers?" he referred to the lyrics of the song. "Roses on a grave? And a gloomy grave, at that!"

Snape quirked a little smile in spite of himself as he gave a self-deprecating shrug. "I face death on a weekly basis; I wear black; and I live in a dungeon. What did you expect?"

They laughed.

* * *

_Fluffy chapter, fondly based on my ballroom dance lessons of two years ago. More to come soon._


	18. Dignified Debauchery

Chapter 18: Dignified Debauchery

The party wore on into evening, but Hermione was reluctant to leave. What if Harry and Ron were able to show up? It grew late, with no sign of them, and the guests began to depart. Soon the only ones left were the three researchers and Alastair Moody, who seemed to be doing his level best to drink himself into a coma. Snape retreated behind the bar and found another half-bottle of firewhisky, just as Moody downed the last of his.

Snape poured a shot of firewhisky and slid it over to Lupin.

"Cheers, Severus."

Snape raised his eyebrow at Hermione, but she shook her head.

"Thank you, but no. I don't know how you people can drink that stuff," she replied.

"Like this," Moody interjected, stumping over to the bar. He downed the next shot and shoved his glass toward Snape again. "One for the road, Snape."

Snape refilled it silently.

The grizzled old man grunted as he knocked back the shot. He started to spin in a tipsy circle.

Lupin stopped him. "Better floo, old man," he adviced chummily. "Don't want to get home without your other leg, now."

Moody grunted, cocking a glaring eye at Snape. "It'sha last time I let you mixsh me drinks," he slurred. "Bastards," he continued in a mutter. "Oughtta be jailed, the whole lot of 'em."

"Death Eaters, you mean?" Hermione asked, worried.

Moody scowled, pointing a meaty, accusatory finger at Snape. "Those damned potioneers! Ought never to be allowed near alcohol!"

Snape sketched a mocking bow, sloshed the bottle in a contemplative manner, and then handed the bottle to Moody.

"Ta," the old man said. He stumped off into the next room, and they heard the flare of the floo as Moody grabbed the bottle and barked out his address, then disappeared into the fireplace.

Lupin raised his eyebrows. "How much was left, Severus?"

Snape shrugged. "Enough so he won't be back to bother us tonight." He cocked his head in Hermione's direction. "Do you simply not like firewhisky, Miss Granger? Or is it alcohol in general that doesn't meet with your approval?"

She flushed, feeling young. "I just don't like any of the drinks I've tried so far. Even butterbeer—I'm just not fond of the yeasty flavor."

Snape's eyes took on a speculative gleam. "What are your three favorite foods?" he asked. "And your two favorite beverages?"

"Sushi, curries, and fish and chips," Hermione replied promptly. "And I like plain tea and lemonade."

Snape's thoughtful expression deepened. As Hermione and Lupin watched, Snape began pulling out bottles and cannisters, tasting and sniffing their contents, until he had nearly filled the bar. Then he very deliberately began mixing some of them together in a bottle, stirring gently, and sometimes going back to add a few more drops of something he had already used.

Finally he was finished, and decanted it into a glass. "Try that," he ordered.

Hermione sniffed it, then took a cautious sip. Then she took a bigger one, and finally a long swallow.

"Wow!" was her only reply before eagerly taking another drink. "What is this, Professor?"

He shrugged, putting away all the bottles he hadn't used. "It's yours. If you like it, I'll write down the recipe."

"Like it? This is the best drink I've ever tasted!"

Lupin nudged her. "It pays to have a potioneer as your mixologist, doesn't it?"

Hermione nodded. "Definitely. Want to try?" She poured a tiny amount into his glass.

Lupin took a small sip and grimaced. "Eugh. Too fishy."

"Fishy? Really?" Hermione took another sip.

It tasted like being at the shore on a hot summer day, sipping a sour lemon ice with just a hint of the tang of vinegared chips or seasoned sushi rice. It tasted just the way the air smelled at the Greek edge of the Mediterranean.

"Oh, Professor, this is wonderful!" she drained her glass and set it down.

Snape ignored it, as he mixed up a whole pitcher of the next drink. "See if you like this one any better, Lupin," he said, pouring a dribble into the other man's glass.

Lupin tried it and nodded. "Much better. I'm just not that fond of fish."

Hermione tried it and decided that even if it wasn't quite as good as "her" drink, it was as close a second that it didn't matter. She brought her glass over to the sofa and sat down with a contented sigh.

Snape brought the pitcher over and set it down on the coffee table. "That ought to keep you two greedy-guts happy for a while, at least," he said. "And I want to get off my feet." He sat down next to Hermione while Lupin sank onto the sofa on her other side.

The drinks were excellent; the sofa was deep and comfortable; and the flickering flames were mesmerizing. Lupin slumped so low on the sofa that he seemed almost in danger of sliding right down onto the floor. Snape put his feet up on the coffee and leaned back, arms folded behind his head, while Hermione curled up like a cat in between them. The three friends drank in companionable silence, watching the fire dance in the fireplace. Hermione's head drifted down onto Snape's shoulder as she sighed herself into slumber. He glanced down and spared a passing thought that he should move her into a more appropriate position, but in the space of his next breath he was asleep as well.

Next morning, a pale grey light found its way through the grimy windows of Grimmauld Place, and Snape jerked into consciousness with the sensation of being watched.

He cracked his eyes open, darting his gaze around the room without moving a muscle otherwise.

"Relax, Severus," a familiar voice said. Lupin came into view and sat on the coffee table opposite Snape. He held out a vial of pinkish liquid.

"Hangover remedy. Found it in the upstairs washroom. God bless Dumbledore."

Snape blinked painfully against the dim grey light, and reached for the vial only to realize that Hermione was still cuddled up to his shoulder. He grunted and sank back again, and Lupin stretched and brought it the rest of the way to him.

"Thanks," Snape rasped. He tipped it up and swallowed, and breathed a sigh of relief as his pounding headache and nausea receded. He indicated Hermione with his chin. "She'll likely need one, too."

Lupin grinned and put another vial on the table, and then moved to sit in the armchair opposite the sofa.

Snape leaned back and closed his eyes again. How daft was it for two grown men to get pissed on Boxing Day with a schoolgirl? He sighed. At Lupin's faint chuckle, Snape's eyes snapped open again, dark and watchful.

Lupin gestured to Hermione. "Ever find yourself forgetting she's a student?"

"All too often," Snape grumbled. "Last night, for instance. And so did you."

"Oh, I didn't forget," Lupin assured him. "I just didn't care. She's not _my_ student anymore, after all. She's just a friend who needed some Christmas cheer."

"Which we provided in spades," Snape said with a wry nod at the empty bottle sitting next to the empty pitcher. "How festive it was, the three of us passing out together."

Lupin grinned. "Yeah. I woke up with all three of us snuggled together like a litter of sleeping puppies. Figured if you two were as bad off as I was, you might appreciate a hangover remedy. And when I came back with it, well, you two just looked so cute like that, I couldn't bear to wake you."

"Thanks ever so," Snape said with a grimace. "You've guaranteed that if I survive the war, I'll be sacked for inappropriate actions with a student. Trust you for the dog metaphor, by the way."

"I'm clever that way," Lupin agreed. "But there was nothing inappropriate. Not unless you got up to some naughtiness after I fell asleep."

"Our present pose is not appropriate, Lupin, you moron!"

"Shh! You'll wake her," Lupin shushed him. "And it might be construed to be inappropriate if anyone else saw it, true, but there's only me here now so you don't have to worry…but all the same, I notice you haven't let go yet."

Snape shot him a sour look, but he just chuckled.

A few moments of silence went by, then Lupin asked slowly, "Have you ever considered… waiting for her, Severus?"

A scowl was his reply.

"No, seriously. You're both of a similar bent; she's seen your worst temper and is still friends with you; she's clever and pretty… why not?"

Soberly, Snape explained, "I don't expect to survive the war, Remus." He looked down at the curly brown head on his shoulder. "Even if I were interested, she wouldn't be, and even if she were, I'm still so unlikely to live that it doesn't matter.

"Besides, she's a student. What you're suggesting is disturbing and ethically wrong."

Lupin shook his head in disgust. "I'm not suggesting anything while she's in school, Severus! What do you take me for, man? That's why I said you could _wait_ for her."

Snape shrugged a shoulder, the one without Hermione's head on it. "I don't have time to waste on pipe dreams and what-ifs, Remus. And I'm sure that even if we both survive the war, Miss Granger is going to want to spend the rest of her life with Weasley or Potter… and quite rightly, too."

He suddenly shot a sharp look at Lupin. "Do you think that an age gap of twenty years will make the nine years between you and Tonks look more respectable?"

Lupin shook his head. "I give up. Just think about it, will you?"

"What would be the point?" Snape protested, his voice getting louder. "I tell you, I'm not going to live long enough for it to matter!"

"Please, Professor," Hermione spoke up without opening her eyes, her voice thick and sleepy. "Must you start shouting? How am I supposed to sleep?"

Snape smirked at her. "Please, Miss Granger, must you start talking? How are we to stay awake?"

It was proof of how tired she was that she only giggled and moved her head to a more comfortable spot on his chest. "Good one."

Snape glanced down and sighed. He'd meant to needle her off him, but she only settled in and made herself even more comfortable.

Snape glanced across to see Lupin's broad grin. "Oh, shut up!" he told the werewolf sourly.


	19. Nagini's Testing

_Note: The exchange between Snape and Hermione--"...how am I supposed to sleep?" "...how are we to stay awake?" -- at the end of the last chapter was paraphrased from one of my favorite theatrical productions, "1776." In that show, the exchange takes place between Ben Franklin and John Dickinson, during a meeting of the Continental Congress immediately before declaring independence from England. Always been one of my favorite exchanges, and I wish I could claim credit for it, but I can't._

* * *

Chapter 19: Nagini's Testing

The three returned to Hogwarts that day, and threw themselves right back into the research. They worked together even more seamlessly than they had before Boxing Day, and Hermione joked to Lupin that they should have all got drunk together when they first started.

Lupin laughed and said that while he was game for it, he doubted that Severus would have ever drunk with a student—much less made her drinks for her!—and would, in fact, have been much more likely to take points for it, at the beginning of the year.

"You and he seem to have come a long way since then," he observed with interest.

She smiled and agreed. "I would hope so! All this work we've done would have been nearly impossible if I were worried about his taking points all the time."

"He does seem to have placed you into a category all by yourself, doesn't he?" Lupin mused. "If one didn't know better, one might almost start to think he likes you."

"Oh, I'm sure he does… in his way. Just like he likes you," Hermione teased. "…In his way."

Lupin chuckled. "Oh, I highly doubt he likes you in the same way he likes me, my dear. I doubt that very much indeed."

"Oh?"

"You're so very much prettier than I am, you see," Lupin teased, using a very serious tone of voice as if he were explaining something to a young child. "And you're a girl. I don't think someone as observant as Severus could possibly miss either one of those facts."

Hermione blushed just a little. "Yes, but he's my teacher. He was kind enough to let me crash on his shoulder this morning, but I don't think that means he likes me like _that._"

"Noooo," Lupin said slowly. "He's much too honorable a man to ever want to get involved with a student… but on the other hand, do you think he would have let _me_ crash on his shoulder this morning?"

She laughed, envisioning it. "He'd have pushed you off onto the floor!"

"Just so."

Hermione frowned in thought.

Lupin let it rest for a moment, and then carefully suggested, "You'll only be his student for another few months, Hermione. At that point, if some mutual interest between you two developed, there would be absolutely nothing wrong with pursuing it."

She gave him a sharp look. "Has he ever said anything to you like that?"

Lupin snorted. "Of course not. However, I do have eyes in my head, my dear. And I have known Severus for longer than you've been alive. I know how he acts with people he doesn't like—hell, I've been one for most of that time—and I know how he acts with those he does. I even know how he acts when he fancies a woman."

"And you're saying that he acts that way with me?"

"No," Lupin said. "But he's closer to it with you than with any other woman I've seen him with, for the last twenty years. I'm not saying he's head over heels or anything, Hermione. He wouldn't let himself feel that way even if he is so inclined. But it wouldn't surprise me to see his feelings toward you start to lean that way after you leave school. Wouldn't surprise me a bit."

"I do rather like him," Hermione admitted. "But even I know that schoolgirl crushes don't last. It's just because we've spent so much time together this year, that's all. And I'll thank you not to mention it to him, if you please! I can live without the resulting derision at my expense!"

Lupin laughed. "Of course I wouldn't, but I doubt that he would deride you. I'm betting that if he knew, he'd only be flattered."

"All the same," Hermione pressed the point. "I won't have him feeling uncomfortable with me, or behaving differently because he's worried about my little feelings, all right? My feelings are my business and my business alone. He doesn't need the extra pressure of worrying about 'oh, no, how do I dissuade her,' or 'what if Dumbledore suspects something improper,' or anything like that."

"I agree," Lupin reassured her soberly. "I'll take it to the grave with me, you have my word. Just… don't rule out anything happening later on, that's all I'm saying. Okay?"

Hermione considered this, then gave him a sharp nod. "Fine."

Just then, Snape came back into his office with a massive, dusty tome. "Shacklebolt just found this at the Ministry," Snape said. "Remus, can you see if there's anything worthwhile in it? Miss Granger, I'll need you to start the final step for the prototype potion in five minutes."

"Right, sir." Hermione gave Lupin one final warning glance and headed back into the lab.

Lupin gave her a reassuring nod and reached for the Ministry book.

"What was all that about?" Snape asked, having noticed the charged atmosphere.

"Oh, we were just talking about future possibilities," Lupin told him lightly, not looking up.

Snape's only reply was a thoughtful frown and a "Hmmm."

# # #

They worked so well together, and had made so much progress, that before the students even returned from Christmas holidays, they had prepared a sample of the potion for testing on Voldemort's snake.

The test on Nagini did not go exactly as planned, but it did seem effective. They poured the potion down her throat and stood back while Snape waved his wand in a diagonal arc with a twist at the end and cast "_Saneximosempra_!"

Nagini's massive body convulsed, writhing in what looked like pain. One giant coil looped through the air and came down close to Hermione, who gasped and scrambled backward.

"We should all move back," she called to the others. "Let's not forget who she's fighting in there. He might want to take us out with him when he goes."

Snape and Lupin recognized the cleverness of the plan just as another giant coil came down with a _whump!_ right where they had been standing a few seconds earlier. Hagrid stayed where he was, doggedly holding onto Nagini's head and talking to her calmly in Parseltongue.

"She says it doesn't hurt, but it's damned uncomfortable," he reported. "She says her master is angry about being dislodged, but she's managed to pry him loose and he should be coming out any minute now."

"Lovely," Lupin remarked. "I wonder what form he'll take?"

"I shudder to think," Snape replied. He and Lupin had drifted closer to Hermione, who was still pale and panicky over her narrow escape.

Lupin slung an arm over her shoulder. "You're okay," he told her. "We're all in this together, luv. It'll work, don't worry."

Slowly, Hermione began to catch her breath.

Hagrid yelled and ducked as another monstrous coil came down over his shoulders.

"What if she kills him?" Hermione asked, eyes wide. "I know he's half-giant, but she's huge!"

Snape held up his wand, which had been in his hand since the beginning of the experiment. "We won't let that happen, Miss Granger."

Hagrid shoved the coil off his shoulders and stood up straight, hissing at the snake again. Then he laughed. "It's all righ'!" he yelled. "She's just having belly cramps and lost track of where all of her was for a moment! She says she's starting to get control again now."

Hermione giggled. "Well, to be fair, there is a _lot_ of her to keep track of!"

"Just so," Snape agreed.

Then the snake reared up high into the air—so high she towered over Hagrid—and let out a loud, screaming hiss.

"Oh!" Hermione gasped. "Is she all right, Hagrid?"

The snake herself answered the question by bending the end of her tail and defecating hugely in the corner of Hagrid's pumpkin patch. The result was oily and greenish-black, and the three researchers wrinkled their noses at the ghastly, rotted stench. It melted the frost and turned the grass brown all around it.

"Ah, tha's better, eh, lass?" Hagrid crooned, patting the side of her head. "That'll make you feel better for sure, getting that nastiness out."

Nagini hissed something and Hagrid released her head and stepped back. "I thought so; your eyes have been looking a bit cloudy. All right, get to it, then," he urged.

Nagini scratched her head on the fencepost at the edge of the vegetable garden, and then slithered around to rub it on the other side. Faster and faster she rubbed, until they saw a few bits of her skin start to peel up. She scratched even more, and before long they saw her skin begin to peel back from her face.

One of Hermione's friends in primary school had had a pet snake, and she had once watched it shed its skin. That snake's skin was white, translucent, and paper-thin. Nagini's was thick and dark, and came off even more slowly than a regular snake's skin.

Once Nagini had settled into a routine of peel, wriggle, scratch, and then peel another centimeter or two, Hermione sighed. "Uh, Remus? Professor? I think I'm going to head back in. This is going to take a while."

"Oh?" Snape asked, raising a brow.

She nodded. "It can take a long time for even a normal-sized snake to shed its skin. For a snake the size of Nagini—well, let's just say I'd like to get some studying in before it's time for my NEWTS."

Snape watched Nagini make a mighty heave of effort, resulting in another centimeter of skin peeling back, and nodded. "I see what you mean. Unfortunately, one of us should stay and monitor her progress, as well as document any side effects she may have."

He turned to Lupin with an unpleasant smile, and handed him a roll of parchment. "Here you are. Make sure the notes are detailed and legible. We'll see you on Sunday."

"Bastard," Lupin replied without heat, taking the roll. "Bring me some dinner, eh?"

"Oh, you don't have to worry 'bout that," Hagrid assured him cheerfully. "You c'n have dinner with me! I'd be glad to have yeh!"

Lupin turned earnest, pleading eyes on his companions, who only smiled at him. Hermione looked as if she were trying to stifle her giggles, while Snape's smile looked downright evil.

"Well, you can at least bring us some tea and biccies," Lupin pleaded.

Hermione nodded, but Snape sniffed. "I'm not sure you should be taking your attention away from our subject for that long. Anyway, I'm sure Hagrid has something that will suffice for your needs."

"Why, sure!" Hagrid agreed. "Couple of my rock cakes'd go down a treat with some tea, eh, Remus? Glad to have yeh, really. Glad to have yeh."

"There, now, you see?" Snape told Lupin. He turned to Hermione and offered his arm in a courtly gesture. "Now then, Miss Granger, shall we see about some dinner for ourselves?"

She took his arm, nose in the air. "Yes, thank you, Professor Snape. I think we shall. I've heard the house-elves have made steak-and-kidney pie tonight, with jacket potatoes and greens. And trifle for pudding!"

Lupin groaned as the two of them walked away laughing, and then turned back to the snake. "All right, Hagrid," he said as he unrolled the parchment and took out his quill. "How's she feeling now?"

It took almost a fortnight for Nagini to finish shedding all of that disgusting black skin. Snape and Lupin traded off watching her, with Hermione spelling them during the day when she wasn't in classes. When she had finally wriggled free of the very last piece of blackened skin (which had been befouled by another black, rotten-smelling defecation towards the end), she slithered around to the sunny side of Hagrid's hut and promptly fell asleep.

Snape examined her very carefully with _legilimens,_ and found no trace of Voldemort's presence. Then he, Hermione, and Lupin examined the skin and even the piles of snake-poo that Nagini had left during her cleansing process.

He ignored the amused smiles of Lupin and Hermione as he cast the mind-reading spell on a snakeskin and several piles of dung—but their smiles turned exultant when he eventually looked up at them and nodded. "I can detect the Dark Lord's magical signature in them," he said.

"Hurrah!" Hermione cried. "It worked!"

"Well done, you two!" Lupin congratulated them. "I must say, I _am_ impressed!"

"As am I, truth be known," Snape. "I find it strangely appropriate that she literally shat out the Dark Lord's soul," he said absently, as he cast a spell over the last one of the steaming, greasy, foul-smelling piles.

Lupin and Hermione laughed.

Lupin said, "We'll have to get rid of all this, of course; Hagrid will never be able to use it in his vegetable garden." The snake-poo and the skin had killed all the vegetation remaining around the garden.

"Although I don't think I'd want vegetables fertilized with bits of Voldemort's soul anyway," Hermione commented.

Snape looked around and nodded. "Ordinarily I'd want to save some of it for analysis, but considering what I suspect is in it, we're far better off just getting rid of all of it. I don't want the Dark Lord lingering in my storeroom for any length of time!" Turning back to the pile of faeces he was closest to, he pointed his wand at it and cast, "_Incendio_!"

Lupin did the same thing to another pile.

Hermione regarded the disgusting, oily, black snakeskin. "I think this will probably take all of us to burn," she said, wrinkling her nose.

The two men agreed. Lupin began burning the tail; Snape started at the head, and Hermione began in the middle.

She giggled as the snakeskin caught and went up in flames.

"What?" Lupin asked.

She shook her head. "Sorry, it's just… we've all been so busy lately, we have to burn the reptile at both ends."

Lupin groaned at the pun. Snape closed his eyes with a pained expression and turned away. Hermione grinned and headed over to the other side of the hut to see if the snake was awake yet.

"Hagrid, is she still sleeping?" she asked the groundskeeper who sat on a bench with Nagini's head in his lap, petting her.

Hagrid shook his head. "Bit logy, though. Poor lass. Y'need to speak to her about somethin', then?"

"Yes, please. Would you ask her whether she feels her master calling her at all?"

Hagrid hissed something at Nagini, who stuck out her tongue languorously and hissed back at him. She raised her head to taste the air around Hermione, and then settled it back onto Hagrid's lap. She hissed again and then seemed to fall asleep again.

"She says she can't find any trace of him left, and she can't hear his voice at all anymore. She says thank you, but she's exhausted after all that. He fought hard and made her think dreadful things, but once she finally got him out of her body and off her scales, he had no more power over her."

Hermione smiled and petted the snake's head. Nagini's forked tongue came out, just the tip, and Hermione said, "You were very brave, Nagini! And without your former master corrupting your scales, they're ever so much brighter than they were before! I'll leave you to sleep now."

Hagrid conveyed Hermione's message and then eyed Nagini's coils fondly. "It's true, ain't it? She was a pretty snake before, but now that she's free of him, she's a real beauty!"

Nagini's iridescent scales sparkled in the sun, and she had several bright yellow and crimson markings that hadn't showed through her old skin. There was some blue and green on her head, and a darker shade of burnished gold on her belly. Her old markings had been much darker and more subtle—dull greens and greys on a black background—and in comparison, her new markings really stood out.

Hermione noticed something. "Hagrid, did you see this? She's a Hogwarts snake now. She has the coloring of all four houses now!"

"Blimey, you're right! Well, that's it then, lass," he told his new friend. "Yeh'll have to stay, now. Yeh're a Hogwarts snake."


	20. Test Subjects

Chapter 20: More Test Subjects

The next thing to do was analyze the data collected during Nagini's somewhat lengthy cleansing session, and work out how (and if) it could possibly apply to a werewolf. Hermione and Snape spent hours discussing the possibilities, while Lupin applied himself to writing up the detailed notes of their experiment to submit to Shacklebolt.

He was strangely reticent to get involved in their discussions, and in fact started to be less than eager about the werewolf experiment in general. It took another two weeks, during which time Snape nearly ran himself ragged by brewing Lupin's Wolfsbane potion in addition to all of his other responsibilities (including a Voldemort summons). He finished the Wolfsbane the morning of the full moon and asked Hermione to clear up and bottle it while he tried to grab a few minutes of sleep before his first class. He'd been up all night.

Lupin popped into the office a couple of hours later. "Do you have it, Severus?" he asked, sounding a little desperate.

Snape, exhausted from his sleepless night and out of sorts because of his morning classes, just nodded. On the last nod, his head went all the way down onto his desk and stayed there.

"Thanks, old man," Lupin said, wiping a bit of nervous perspiration from his brow. "Don't know what I'd do without you."

Snape turned his bent head just enough to send Lupin a burning, black sidelong glare. "Probably try to kill me again."

Lupin gulped. "I deserved that. Severus, I am sorry that you have to go to all this trouble for me, and I really do appreciate all the work you put into it. Honestly."

"Mmmph." Snape turned his head back down; apparently sustaining the glare required a little too much energy from him at the moment.

Lupin sidled into the room and sat down opposite the other man. "With that said, I wanted to talk to you about this anti-lycanthropy potion variant you and Hermione are so eager to try."

"Mmmph?"

"I … uh … I don't really want to be your alpha-test-subject for it." Lupin thought it best to just come right out with it.

Snape lifted his head just far enough to scowl at Lupin. "It worked with getting the Dark Lord out of the snake. Nothing in the potion is toxic to werewolves in general. I'm not eager to begin by testing on a human, but we don't really have another werewolf to hand, Lupin."

"I know… and I do trust you both, but I'd be more comfortable testing it on another living creature first. Maybe one that isn't a Horcrux—see what happens and how it goes for them, before I take it myself."

"And how do you suggest we do that?" Snape snarled, having reached the end of his admittedly limited patience for the day. "Care to go out into the forest and find us some animals to shove splinters into? Care to spell some marsh gas into some of Aragog's children?"

Lupin hunched his shoulders, unhappy. If he went through with the experiment, he didn't know how the potion might work. It might even make him worse! But if he didn't go through with it, then Snape would have to go on making the Wolfsbane for him every month.

He could see that Snape was clearly at the end of his rope. He worried for his friend, but he still didn't want to be the first test subject!

"I don't know, Severus. Let me try and think of something. But in the meantime, I'm going to go see Dumbledore and see if he'll let me sub for you today. You can't teach classes in the shape you're in, man. You need sleep."

It was a mark of just how utterly knackered Snape was, that he only put up a token protest before nodding. "Fine."

Dumbledore didn't object; in fact, he even said he wished he had thought of that earlier. Lupin was a perfectly capable Defense teacher, and it had been foolish not to use him in that capacity before when Snape was too tired and overworked to teach.

So Lupin guest-taught the remaining three Defense classes; Snape went to bed; and Hermione stayed after class to talk to Lupin. Defense was her last class of the day, so the two of them fell into step as they walked down to Snape's office together.

Lupin explained his reasoning, but Hermione couldn't help but feel a little hurt. She knew he had a valid point—that anything could go wrong—but she still got a lump in her throat and had a hard time speaking for a few minutes. When she finally got herself under control, she manufactured an errand for him and sent him to Hogsmeade. She wanted some time to herself for a while.

She hated getting so emotional when she got her period. It put her at odds with her normal thought processes, and she used Lupin's absence to do some meditative exercises her mother had taught her, and get her emotions under control again.

Snape wandered in yawning around mid-afternoon and demanded to know what she was doing and why, where Lupin was, and what he had done during his Defense classes.

Hermione smiled. "Meditating, because Remus annoyed me and I'm feeling a bit off-balance; getting ready to start the next experimental batch of the anti-lycanthropy potion; Hogsmeade, where I sent him for some Eastern rue and to get him out of my hair for a while; and Algerian boggarts."

Snape frowned while he processed all her answers, and then snorted. "Meditating, eh? Does it work? Maybe I should try it the next time someone annoys me."

"Oh, I doubt it would be a good choice for you, sir," Hermione teased. "You get annoyed so often you'd never have time to do anything else."

Snape shrugged, conceding the truth of her observation. He inspected her preparations for the next batch and read her notes from Lupin's Defense class that afternoon. He nodded and gestured for her to continue.

They shared some desultory conversation about Lupin and his refusal to be their test subject for the anti-lycanthropy potion, but since neither one had any suggestions, they both fell into silence. Snape sat down at his desk to do some marking.

In the late afternoon, Lupin burst into Snape's office, with what can only be described as a wolfish grin. "Hey," he greeted them, panting

Snape looked up. "You look happy. Did your Quidditch team manage to not lose quite so badly then?"

Lupin shook his head, still grinning. "Guess again."

"Uh," Hermione said. "You just killed the Dark Lord on your way up through Hogsmeade?"

Lupin shook his head. "Closer, but no."

Snape dropped his quill. _"Closer?"_

Lupin nodded. "I've found us a test subject for the anti-lycanthropy version of the Horcrux potion. Come with me and I'll show you," Lupin said. He bounced on his toes a little, still grinning.

Snape and Hermione glanced at each other, her with a tiny smirk and him with a longsuffering expression.

"He's as bad as you were," Snape griped.

"It _is_ fairly exciting to finally find an appropriate test subject," she offered.

He gave an exasperated sigh and cast his gaze heavenward. "Heaven save me from over-enthusiastic Gryffindors," he grumbled. "All right, Lupin, where is the subject?"

"Follow me."

Lupin led them down the hall, down another set of stairs into the deepest dungeons. He muttered the light spell, and bracketed torches on the walls suddenly flared into flame. Hermione could see the walls nearly dripping with moisture, and there was actual moss growing in the corners.

Lupin used his wand to unlock a thick oaken door, which screeched its way open with a strong pull. Then he led them down another corridor to an iron door with a small window in the top. He lifted up the heavy oak plank that barred the door.

"Better let me go in first," he whispered, opening the door just enough to squeeze through it and then slamming it behind him. The oak plank fell back into place.

"Cor, he's locked himself in!" Hermione said. "I hope whatever it is isn't dangerous!"

Snape peered in through the small window, but apparently couldn't see anything right away.

Suddenly he took a step back away from the door, eyes wide. "Dear God!" he exclaimed.

"What is it?"

Snape glanced at her with a hint of a disbelieving smile. "I think Lupin brought us the perfect test subject.


	21. A Grey Area

Chapter 21:

They could hear the clanking of chains from within, and Snape peered through the window again.

"Ah, good, he's shortening the chains on the shackles."

A moment later, a light knock sounded on the door. Snape lifted the oak plank and opened the door. Lupin slipped out and grinned at them.

"I think he's secure enough now," he said.

"I should hope so. You retracted the chains to give him no slack whatever," Snape remarked.

Lupin shrugged. "Do you blame me?"

"Not at all. He's dangerous."

"But why did you need to go in first?" Hermione wanted to know.

Lupin opened the door and gestured for them to follow him in. "Because, Hermione my dear, he can't infect me any more than he already has."

As the door opened, a sour, rotting smell wafted out. Lupin didn't appear to notice anything, but Hermione wrinkled her nose and noticed that Snape's nostrils looked a little pinched.

The man inside the room was huge and wild-looking, with scraggly hair, an unkempt beard, and long yellow nails that were curved like claws. He was shackled directly to the wall by the wrists and ankles. An iron collar circled his his neck, and another iron band girdled his waist. That one had a lower portion, an iron band running down between his legs and fixing his pelvis firmly to the wall.

He was starting to stir and regain consciousness just as they walked in. He opened his eyes to see Hermione enter, followed by Snape and Lupin.

He scented the air, running his tongue out lewdly and licking his chops like a dog. He leered at her.

"Hello, little girl," he growled. "Come a little closer, why don't you? I seem to be on a short leash at the moment."

"I still can't believe you kidnapped _Greyback,"_ Snape said to Lupin, impressed.

"Can you think of a better subject to test on, before we move on to my own good self?" Lupin shot back. "I happened upon him just outside Hogsmeade, and thought to myself, 'Remus, old son, if that potion makes werewolves explode or turn inside out or something, who better to test it on than Greyback?'"

"Who indeed?" Snape said grimly. "It's almost a pity that it's so likely to work."

"Who is he?" Hermione asked, eyeing the slavering creature with a grimace of distaste.

"Fenrir Greyback," Lupin answered. "He's a werewolf who gets his jollies by turning little children."

"I'd get me jollies eating that one right up!" Greyback asserted, not taking his eyes off Hermione. "Or out. Give 'er a sniff, there, Remus, me old china. Don't she smell delicious! You can smell the blood! Go on, sniff!"

Lupin cleared his throat and pointedly ignored the werewolf.

Something in Lupin's stance made Hermione go and touch his hand. "Did he turn you, then?" she asked.

He hesitated, then nodded.

"He's also a Death Eater," Snape added. "Or, at least, a follower of the Dark Lord." He shot a sharp glance at Lupin. "You realize he can't be allowed to leave here, right?"

Lupin raised an eyebrow. "No, Severus, I thought I'd kidnap my mortal enemy, force an experimental potion down his throat, tell him where your true loyalties lie, and then let him go running back to _him._" The words fairly dripped with sarcasm.

Hermione shook her head. "Remus, you've been hanging around with Professor Snape too long. That remark was almost worthy of him!"

Snape sniffed. "And here, I was thinking he's only just become bearable."

Meanwhile, Greyback was following the conversation avidly, yellow-green eyes darting from one speaker to the next.

"'Ere, what sort o' potion you givin' me?" he demanded, his hoarse accents betraying his criminal-class roots.

"An experimental one; weren't you listening?" Snape asked testily. "Miss Granger, run and get it; tonight is the full moon, so we may as well do it and get it over with. I certainly don't want to keep _this_ around for another month!"

Hermione nodded and turned to leave.

"What's it supposed to do?" asked the prisoner, eyes tracking the young woman's movement out the door.

"If it works, it will cure your lycanthropy," Snape informed him.

"Cure me wot?"

"It will make you stop being a werewolf," Lupin explained. "If it works, that is; personally, I'm still holding out for making you explode."

"Bugger that!" Greyback exclaimed. "I don't want to stop bein' a werewolf! I likes it, an' I want to go on doing it!"

"As my father used to say," Snape muttered, "'you can't always get what you want.'"

Lupin grinned. "Yes, but I've heard that if you try sometimes, you get what you need."

"What I need is for that girl to hurry up with the potion!" Snape said.

"I'm back!" Hermione said brightly, hurrying in with a carafe in one hand and a test-vial in the other. "I wasn't sure how much of it would constitute one dose, or how many doses we would need, so I decanted it into this." She held out the carafe in one hand.

Snape frowned in thought.

"Oho! Looks like the little girlie brought me a treat!" Greyback chortled. "Come closer, little girl, and you'll get one right back from me! You are a tasty bit o' crumpet, you are!"

"Oh, shut up!" Hermione told him crossly. She scanned him with her wand, muttering a measuring spell. "He's a little over eleven stone," she told Snape. "Considering the dilution, how much would constitute one dose?"

Snape poured out some of the brownish potion into the vial and held it up to the light coming from Lupin's wand. "We'll start with an ounce, and monitor his responses. If the initial dose doesn't do it, we'll add another half at every half-hour until moonrise."

Greyback continued with his lascivious remarks on Hermione's hair, face, mouth, figure, clothing, and even scent. Hermione held herself straight and did not respond, but her cheeks went red. If she had known the werewolf could smell that he had her period, she might have opted to stay outside!

Snape noticed her discomfiture, and turned his attention to Greyback. He had tuned out the disgusting creature in order to concentrate on the dosage, but now he realized how much the vermin's commentary was distressing Hermione.

"_Silencio_!" he ordered Greyback, who fell silent under the spell. Undaunted, he continued thrusting his hips in Hermione's direction, and flicking his tongue lewdly at her.

She turned her back on him, taking the vial from her professor.

"So how do we do this, and how do we monitor his reactions?" she asked, a little louder than necessary.

Greyback couldn't speak, but his tongue made slurping sounds in the silence as he made licking motions with it. The chains holding his shackles clanked rhythmically as he thrust his pelvis at her.

"Poppy Pomfrey has a monitoring spell that we can adapt for this use," Lupin said. "As for administering it, I'd just put him into a body bind and pour it down his throat."

Snape nodded. "That's what I had in mind, as well, but I'll have to lift the silencing spell first." He waved his wand and lifted the spell, and then glanced at Greyback just as the man made a particularly offensive gesture toward Hermione.

The werewolf made a throaty moan of mock-passion and invited Hermione to come closer because he was like a _dog with a bone_ at the moment.

He was obviously aroused, and Hermione's cheeks flamed as she did her best to ignore him.

"Oh, for God's sake, Lupin," Snape muttered. "You just stand there and let him behave like that to Miss Granger? Maybe you _haven't_ changed that much since school."

He strode over and gave Greyback a hard uppercut to the jaw. "I believe the lady told you to shut up!"

Greyback's body sagged, his testicles bulging obscenely through his trousers as the waist-shackle cut into his pelvis.

"You're right, Severus," Lupin said quietly. "I'm sorry, Hermione. I guess I have a chronic case of not knowing when to intervene."

Snape snorted in disdain and turned away to fix the dosage.

Hermione gave Lupin a weak smile, and then went over to Snape. "Thank you, Professor," Hermione said. "I can usually ignore that sort of behavior, but he was being pretty extreme in his disgustingness."

"Not at all, Miss Granger. Believe me when I tell you it was entirely my pleasure," Snape growled, holding his aching wrist.

Greyback's eyelids fluttered as he came back to himself, and he grinned and panted like a dog. "So, Snapey comes running to the rescue, eh? You two-faced old goat, always bleating about protecting the students and it turns out this one needs protection from you! And once again little Remus sits and does nothing. Which of you gets to dose me, though? Do I get to drink my medicine directly from the little girl? I'm sure it will taste all the sweeter for it... and I'm betting ol' Snapey can tell me just how sweet she tastes!"

Greyback ran out his tongue in a horrible grin and started humping the waist-shackle again.

Hermione whirled and approached him, furious. She raised her wand and flung a nonverbal spell.

Quite suddenly, spikes appeared in the shackle that went between his legs. He thrust hard against them before he knew they were there.

He yelped in pain and glared at Hermione. "Girlie likes it rough," was all he said. He stood very still. A little bit of blood ran down his inside leg, staining his trousers.

Snape and Lupin exchanged shocked glances.

"'Brilliant, but scary,'" Lupin quoted, shaking his head in awe. "Glad she's on our side. Hermione, can you give us some more light?"

Hermione obligingly cast _Lumos_ from her own wand. She hoped they wouldn't mention what she had just done to Greyback.

Apparently, the subject was closed. "You want to do the honors, Lupin?" Snape asked. "Since, as you say, he can't infect you more than he already has."

"With pleasure," the other man replied. "Here, hold this," he said, handing his wand to Snape.

He took the vial from Hermione and strode over to Greyback. He tipped the vial into the werewolf's mouth, spelled his mouth shut so he couldn't spit the potion out, and then held his nose closed so the werewolf would have to swallow it if he wanted to breathe.

Hermione said, "I know Madam Pomfrey's monitoring spell. Shall I go ahead and cast it, then?"

"Go ahead, and then we can get out of this stench," Snape told her.

Hermione cast the spell, and then hesitated. "Should we do something about…?" she indicated the werewolf's bleeding crotch.

Lupin's expression was hard. "If you see something that you think you should do something about, then by all means, go ahead," he said. "For my part, I don't see a thing. Do you, Severus?"

Snape looked at her with eyebrows raised. "Nothing we need concern ourselves with," the teacher agreed.

Hermione glared at the werewolf for a long moment, and then sighed and sent a careless "_Episkey_!" across the room to him. Without waiting to see if it even hit him, she turned and left. The two men followed her.


	22. Wildness

Chapter 22

Back upstairs in Snape's office, Hermione wrinkled her nose. "He was a bit whiffy, wasn't he?" she said.

"He's feral," Lupin explained. "You just smelled the wildness. Many wild animals have that sort of scent, especially the predators. He has never trained, controlled, or restrained his inner wolf, so naturally he carries that feral sort of smell."

"Is there any chance he'd be able to get out of here?" Hermione asked as the three of them trooped back out the door.

Lupin dropped the 4-inch-thick oak beam into place to bar the door. "I doubt it. No one else has access to this section except for Severus."

"And even I haven't been down here for some months. No, he'll be fine behind these two doors. The monitoring spell should inform us of any change, as well." Snape took a ring of keys from within his robes and closed the heavy oak door behind them, then followed them up the stairs to the more well-used area of the dungeon.

"And I really ought to take my own potion, if I want to be worth anything tomorrow," Lupin said. "I know sunset is still a ways off, but I always get antsy and growly before I transform. Severus, want to bring it up to my room when you finish up down here? Or send it up with Hermione?"

"I'll bring it myself," Snape told him as he went around the lab tidying up. "I don't think it would be best to have a 7th year student entering the bedroom of a grown man in this school. The rumors would fly, I'm sure."

Hermione scoffed. "I doubt they'd fly about _me,_ though. My life isn't really all that exciting on its own—only when it overlaps with Harry's are people interested."

"Be that as it may," Snape said, "I would prefer to deliver the Wolfsbane myself, and make sure he drinks it. But I'll need you to stay here and monitor Greyback's condition. If it changes, send an elf to call me. Under no circumstances are you to return to his cell alone, is that understood?"

"Yes, sir."

The two men left together, and she sank down onto a stool and adjusted the monitoring spell to display a readout in mid-air in front of her.

Snape returned just in time for them to go back down together and administer another dose. Greyback said nothing this time, but his yellow eyes glittered with malice as he watched them leave.

Half an hour later, they did it again.

And again, thirty minutes after that.

"I think the smell is getting stronger," Hermione said as they left his cell for the fourth time.

"He's getting closer to wild," Snape replied. He frowned. "His status hasn't changed in the slightest, yet. He's just getting closer and closer to transforming, but there are absolutely no signs of his not being a werewolf anymore."

"And sadly, not any signs of his exploding or turning inside out, either," Hermione added with a wry smile.

"Alas, no," Snape agreed, deadpan. "Well, we are committed to completing this experiment. Even if it fails, we've at least got Greyback out of circulation."

"That won't be much of a comfort to Remus. Not much we can do about it, though. Sir, we're going to have to monitor him all night! Will you give me a pass to stay after curfew?"

Snape shook his head. "I think I'm capable of monitoring a shackled werewolf in a locked room by myself, Miss Granger. And I don't think the Headmaster would look too kindly upon his youngest male teacher keeping a 7th-year female student in his office all night."

"Oh!" Hermione blushed. "Sorry, sir. I hadn't thought of how it might look. It's just—well, I'm not used to people thinking those sorts of things about _me,_ that's all."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Spent too much time as one of the boys, have you? Hard to think of yourself as a young lady?"

"Perhaps," Hermione allowed, still pink-cheeked. "Something like that."

Snape's expression softened slightly. "Maybe it's a good thing they're gone for a bit, then. It will give you a chance to remember what it's like to be female... and to have your colleagues remember that you're female as well."

"You and Remus, you mean?" Hermione asked with a smile.

He nodded. "Yes, but I assure you, we need no reminders. Especially Remus."

"Why especially Remus?"

Snape looked away, ostensibly to check on the readout. "He sometimes finds women to be terribly distracting right before he transforms. Specifically during their time of the month. He can smell their, er, menstrual blood, and he finds it extremely unsettling." His own cheeks darkened slightly.

"Oh!" Hermione said, embarrassed. "Right. Well, if you have Greyback under control, then I'll just, um…" She stuffed her things haphazardly into her bag. "See you in the morning!" she said and ran out the door.

Behind her, Snape indulged in a rare moment of chagrin. Dropping his head into his hands, he groaned. Wonderful, Severus. Protect the reputation of your best student by getting her alone in your office and telling her that her menstrual cycle is a topic of conversation between you and the other middle-aged git in her life. Well done, old man. He sighed.


	23. Introspection and Epiphanies

Chapter 23: Introspection and Epiphany

Hermione was mortified. She ran back to her room repeating, "Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God, oh my God!" over and over in her head.

She got to her room and shut the door and leaned back against it, eyes shut. Oh my God! Professor Snape just told me that he and Remus both know I have my period! Professor Snape was talking to me about my period! It was bad enough when Greyback was talking bout it, but Snape—!

Hermione knew that her relationship with Snape had changed considerably over the year, but in this moment all she could think of was the cold, unpleasant man who had sneered at her teeth in fourth year. This was the man who had just mentioned, almost in passing, that he was aware of the timing of her menstrual cycle!

As she gained control of her breathing again, her brain eventually fell back into its usual, logical patterns of thought. She knew that the man she had worked so closely with all year was not likely to ridicule her for something that merely marked her as female.

But for some reason, Remus' knowing about it didn't concern her quite as much. Greyback had certainly been able to smell it, so she knew, intellectually, that Remus would be able to, as well. But he had never mentioned it, and for Professor Snape to know about it just seemed far too intimate and personal for a teacher and student!

Not only that, but twice he had brought up the appropriateness of things she would have thought nothing about. Was it possible he was right? Had she got so used to Harry and Ron's offhand dealings with her femininity that she had even begun to think of herself as some sort of asexual being?

It was becoming evident that Professor Snape _didn't_ think of her as an asexual being…but—and she could hardly bring herself to even wonder—did that necessarily mean he thought of her as a _sexual_ being?

She stopped short, flushing, as this new and disturbing thought made itself known. "I didn't even think of that!" she muttered, running her hand absently through her hair. She coiled one of her curls around her finger as she thought about all the time the she had spent with the two men over the past few months.

Snape and Remus had both behaved like perfect gentlemen with her. That is, they didn't ignore her gender, but neither one had ever done or said anything that was even remotely inappropriate. She knew they never would, either; she trusted both men implicitly that way, a way that she had never done even with Ron and Harry. But for the first time, she realized that their entirely respectable behavior towards her did not necessarily mean they forgot she was a woman.

Now as she thought about it, she began to remember all the little things they both did to defer to her as gentlemen do to a lady. Remus, pulling her chair out for her in the lab. Snape, holding a door open and gesturing her through before him. Remus, holding her cloak for her. Snape, offering her his own, that time she had forgotten hers and they'd had to go to the Forbidden Forest for one of the tests. Remus, gently taking the splinters out of her hair. Snape, giving her a veiled compliment on it.

She smiled a small, nervous smile at these memories. She knew that neither of them acted like that in order to "get in" with her. Remus was head-over-heels in love with Tonks, and Snape was her professor. No, they did these things out of natural courtesy, simply because she was a woman and they were gentlemen.

And with all this, neither one of them ever implied by word or deed that her femaleness made her any less capable than either of them. On the contrary, they made it clear that they both had a great deal of respect for her abilities. They had both treated her completely as an equal ever since the beginning of this project: equal, but worth of the respect due a lady.

Realizing this, Hermione began to calm down a little. She realized, with a wry smile, that this was mostly just a difference of maturity—she was used to Harry and Ron's ignoring all evidence of her cycle, and to their stammering, blushing discomfort when it was mentioned at all. Lupin and Snape's matter-of-fact acceptance of it seemed startlingly civilized in comparison.

Still, this issue made her realize something that she had previously ignored: the feeling that she was in limbo most of the time. Legally an adult, but socially just a schoolgirl. It might have been easier had the wizarding world recognized the age of 18 as the age of majority like the muggle world did. As it was, many of the 7th year Hogwarts students were already adults before they'd even left school. Walking the uncertain line between adolescence and adulthood was a tricky business for anyone, but for a young woman whose entire day shifted between adolescent responsibilities and adult ones on an hourly basis, it was doubly so.

She wished, not for the first time, that she had someone to talk to. None of her friends at school would do—this was the sort of situation she needed a mother for.

Hermione's letters home had always been quite detailed, so when she mentioned her professors and friends, they always knew who she was talking about. On her visit home right before term began, she had told them about that first night at Grimmauld Place, which had initiated the change in her relationship to Professor Snape. She remembered her mother's compassionate hug and the words, "Poor man!" whispered in her ear. She knew, in a moment of Granger-woman solidarity, that her mother was only hugging her because Professor Snape wasn't there to be hugged.

She wished she could have introduced Snape and Lupin to her parents. The only wizards her parents had ever met had been Harry. Ron and Ron's family. She wished she could have shown them that wizards could be erudite and funny, scholarly and strong—and fiercely protective. But her mother had been murdered by Death Eaters because Professor Snape had been assigned to some other family that night. She had the sudden thought that if he had been assigned to hers and had been able to save them, her mother might have had a chance to hug the real man instead of just a proxy.

A wave of grief washed over Hermione, and she sat down at the head of her bed, hugging her pillow and waiting for it to pass. Most of the time she could put it out of her mind and get on with things, but every so often her grief and pain crept up and hit her like a bludger to the head.

Hermione had been quite close to her mum for most of her life. Her father, being older, was more formal with his family, but Hermione's mother had been her closest friend since before she'd started school. And Hermione's mum had been a beautiful woman; she could have given Hermione good advice about how a young woman should be relating to the men in her life.

Hermione had been stunned to see Professor Snape punch the werewolf, Greyback. It was such an atavistic, primal thing to do that it appealed to her on a visceral level. Intellectually, she knew that Snape, as her teacher, saw her only as a girl, a student, a protégé. But she knew in her gut, beyond all doubt, that he saw her as a woman—and more, a woman worth fighting for.

It was the most meaningful compliment she had ever received.

Still a little embarrassed—after all, it was so juvenile to develop a crush on a teacher!—she nonetheless shrugged and smiled. So what if she liked him? She'd liked many a stupider person.* Lockhart came to mind, and her mind recoiled and returned to the subject of her crush on Snape. Honestly, it wouldn't do either of them any harm, and if her feelings were temporary they would fade after she left school.

She decided right then and there, that when school ended she would not contact him for a year. She suspected her mother would have told her that would be a good way to figure out if her affection was transient or lasting. And if it lasted a full year with no interaction with him, she promised herself that she would by God do something about it.

She took comfort in the belief that her mother would have cheered her on, every step of the way... and, missing her mother, the tears came again.

* * *

_*"She'd liked many a stupider person" is a reference to a conversation between the two eldest sisters in __Pride and Prejudice. I can well imagine Hermione enjoying Jane Austen._


	24. Comfort

Chapter 24: Comfort

She didn't know how long she had wept, when she heard a quiet knock on the door. It was McGonagall.

"I had a sense that I might be of use to you here. My dear, is there anything I can do?" she asked.

Hermione wiped her eyes and thought for a moment. McGonagall was as unlike Hermione's mother as it was possible for anyone to be who shared the same sex, but on the other hand, she was an Order member, Hermione's Head of House, and a mature woman.

She nodded. "I just … I've been wishing I could talk to my mother about my muddled feelings," she said. "So, it's a combination of missing her and not knowing what to think about this situation with Remus and Professor Snape."

Briefly, she outlined what their working relationship was like, and what Snape had told her earlier and how it made her feel. "I don't want you to think even for a second that Professor Snape has ever done or said anything inappropriate," she assured her Head of House. "It's more a case of the lines being blurred. I've been working so closely with the two of them that we've become quite good friends, and it's very odd to have to walk that line between being friends and colleagues and being professor and student.

"Not to mention the fact that I'm legally an adult, socially a child, and professionally somewhere in the middle. I have the utmost respect for Professor Snape, don't get me wrong. I've enjoyed working with him. But calling him 'sir' one minute and having him mentioning my menstrual cycle the next—well, it's a little confusing! If we were just friends, I'd be perfectly comfortable with him knowing about it, and maybe even mentioning it… and if we were just professor and student, I know he would never mention it. It's the middle ground that's confusing me. And I really wanted to talk to my mother about it, and I can't. I'm just so confused!"

McGonagall smiled. "It's probably confusing him as well, Miss Granger."

"Do you think so?"

The older woman nodded. "Professor Snape is a good man, but he is very hard to get to know. The fact that he has allowed himself to have a friendship with you and Remus is a pleasant surprise, actually. Perhaps it may help you to just think of the rest of this year as a formality? You and I know, and Professor Snape knows, that you are an adult. However, we all know as well that you won't be considered an adult until you leave school permanently. Until that time, we must all observe the formalities in our interactions with each other."

Hermione nodded slowly. She wiped away her remaining tears and sniffed.

"What that means is that you can continue to be friends with Remus and with Professor Snape—and that you must continue to address him as 'sir' for the next couple of months. After that, I would be very surprised if he didn't offer you his given name, given what you've told me."

Pleased, Hermione gave a watery smile. "Really?"

McGonagall returned her smile, adjusting her glasses. "Why not? I'm planning to, myself."

Hermione's smile widened. "Really? Thank you, ma'am. It will be an honor!"

"Miss Granger, would you like me to speak to Professor Snape myself? I wouldn't want this 'confusion' of yours to lead to any awkwardness in your working relationship. And if I know Severus," she continued in an undertone, "he's probably even more mortified than you are, and possibly even worried for his job!"

"His job?" Hermione gasped.

"As you said," McGonagall explained, "if he were _only_ your professor, he would never have mentioned anything as personal as your cycle. If he is not _only_ your professor anymore, he may be concerned about people's speculations of what _else_ he is to you. He may be concerned just as much about his reputation as about yours. May I reassure him?"

"Oh. Um, yes. I guess so. Or I could just speak to him about it myself, when I see him tomorrow morning."

"Are you comfortable enough now to do that?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes, I think so, Professor. Thank you for listening." She smiled shyly. "I don't think even my mum could have done better."

"High praise indeed! Well, I'll leave you to it, then. And remember that my door is always open to you, Miss Granger, should you need me in this capacity again in the future."

"Thank you, Professor."


	25. A Rude Awakening

Chapter 25: A Rude Awakening

Next morning, Hermione made her way down to Snape's office a little early. She wanted to get there before Remus did, in order to speak privately to Snape.

"Good morning, sir," she greeted him, tossing her bag onto the table.

"Mmph," was his inarticulate reply as he bent over the teacup lovingly cradled in his hands, to inhale the aroma.

Hermione bit back a grin. He really _wasn't_ a morning person!

Hermione was burning to find out how Greyback passed the night, but wanted to clear the air with her mentor first. "Professor Snape, I wanted to apologize for the way I ran out of here yesterday." She took a deep breath and met his questioning, somewhat bleary gaze, with nary a blush. "I was embarrassed about a professor's mentioning something as personal as my cycle.

"It was just a little confusing, because, well, I _am_ an adult now—you and Remus have both treated me as such, all the time we've worked together—but the fact remains that I'm young, still in school, and still subject to all the same restrictions as the first-years. Having to switch back and forth all the time from gets a little confusing, and yesterday I left because I… simply didn't know what to think."

Snape looked alarmed. "Miss Granger, I assure you that I—I mean to say…" he paused, blinking, looking for the words.

"Sir, I'm not implying that you did anything inappropriate at all. Don't misunderstand me," she said hurriedly.

"It was not appropriate for a professor to mention something so personal to one of his female students," Snape finally said with difficulty.

"Perhaps not," Hermione allowed, "But for one adult to another, it was acceptable. Especially since those adults are colleagues, and—dare I hope it? —friends, to some extent."

He huffed a bit of a laugh then, and leaned back. "To _some_ extent, yes, I suppose so." He eyed her for a moment, and then said, "Actually, I had been going to apologize to you for embarrassing you like that. The fact that you're a woman has not escaped me—or Remus—but I didn't want to leave you worrying that I was interested in you in any improper way."

Hermione smiled at his unconsciously using Lupin's first name, even as she waved away his concern. "Oh, I know that, sir. I trust you, and believe me, I know the difference! _Greyback's_ interest in me was improper. Yours has never been. It was only my discomfiture at not knowing which role I was expected to play at that moment, that's all: Hermione the over-eager student, or Hermione the researcher. Professor McGonagall helped me out with it."

"Oh? What did she say?"

"She pointed out that our interactions run a little deeper than the usual student-professor relationship. Yesterday, you even used the word 'colleague.' She said that for the rest of the school year, we all have to observe the formalities, but after I leave school she would be perfectly willing to consider me as more of a friend than a pupil. She also told me," Hermione gave her professor a sidelong glance, "that you might be willing to do the same, after I leave school."

Snape said nothing.

"I don't want to presume, of course, Professor. But I'd like it if we could be friends at that point."

"I don't deny that it will be a pleasure to leave the over-eager student behind forever, in favor of the research partner," he said tartly. "But let's just get through the rest of this year, and hopefully the war, and then we'll see what the future brings."

Snape sighed. "I do lead rather a dangerous life, after all," he finished in an undertone.

Hermione gulped. "Then let's do our best to see that you survive it," she said stoutly.

Snape met her gaze for a long moment, and his expression softened. He opened his mouth to speak, but just then, Lupin creaked the door open and dragged himself in. He slumped into a chair. "Might've known you two would be here already," Lupin groaned, rubbing his eyes.

Snape looked at him, eyes glazed with exhaustion. "Not already, Remus. _Still_. Still here."

Lupin noticed Snape's fatigue. "You look almost as bad as I must," he said. "What happened?"

"Stayed up to monitor the experiment, and then got summoned by the Dark Lord shortly after midnight," Snape told him. "Worked for him all night. Reported to Dumbledore when I got back, and then came down here just in time for Miss Granger to come prancing in all cheerful and insufferable."

Behind him, Hermione stuck her tongue out at him.

"Poor Severus," Lupin said, sympathetic but amused. "So how is our little experiment doing this morning?" he asked, and yawned. His tongue curled up a little at the end during the yawn, like a dog's.

Snape scowled and shook his head. "The 'experiment,' as you put it, didn't survive."

"Wait, Greyback is _dead_? What happened?" Lupin was wide awake now.

"Well, I dosed him with an additional half-ounce every half-hour until sunset with no change. At sunset, I stopped dosing him and started monitoring him closely with the spell. He apparently transformed fully, and then died less than three minutes later. I saw it happen on the monitoring spell. He died just as I was summoned and had to leave. I've just got back down here a few minutes ago, and was waiting for you to show up before going down to see what happened."

"We killed him?" Hermione was horrified.

"Apparently. Read it for yourself," Snape cast the monitoring spell again. "No life signs."

"Even if we did," Lupin insisted, squeezing Hermione's shoulder, "It wasn't murder. More like an execution." His voice was hard, as if he couldn't forget what Greyback had done to him.

"It seems that you'll have to continue as a werewolf, Remus," Snape said. His dark eyes betrayed his disappointment. "I _am_ sorry. Truly." He quirked one corner of his mouth in what might have been a rueful smile. "Not least because it means I'll have to go on making Wolfsbane for you."

"Bugger," Lupin replied, with all sincerity. "Well, let's go see what happened to him."


	26. Hungry Like the Wolf

_Author's Note: This section is pretty grisly. Be warned. Greyback's death is not a pretty one._

* * *

The three research partners went back down the stairs, through the wooden door, down the corridor, and faced the iron door once more.

"Let me go in first again," Lupin said. "Just in case something went wrong with the monitoring spell." He eased the door open and slipped through, clanging it shut behind him hard enough to make the bar drop back into place.

"What the—?" they heard him say, yelping in fright.

"Remus!" Snape shouted, reaching for the bar on the door.

"Remus, are you okay?" Hermione called, drawing her wand. She met Snape's eyes and he nodded once, lifting the bar.

Lupin heard him lift it. "No!" he yelled. "Stay out there! I'm okay—just wait a minute!"

They heard him cast "_Stupefy_!" followed by "_Incarcerous! INCARCEROUS!_" and it seemed like a long time before he finally banged on the door for them to open it. He was panting and his robe was torn.

"What happened?" Hermione asked, grabbing his shoulders. "Are you okay?" She inspected the tear and glanced around for blood. "I thought Greyback was dead!"

"He is," Snape spoke grimly, peering over Lupin's shoulder at the interior of the dungeon. "Most gruesomely."

"Yes," Lupin said. "Unfortunately, his inner wolf seems to have gained a life of its own." He stepped aside so they could both see.

A huge, grey wolf lay on the stone floor, barely breathing and bound with so many ropes that it would never be able to move.

"At least now we know how Greyback died," Snape said. "A rather ironical ending, I must say."

Greyback was in pieces.

Hermione gagged and leaned against the wall of the cell. "Uh. Wow. That's… wow, that's disgusting!"

Lupin agreed. "He always was, you know." He grimaced, looking around. "Just not in so many pieces."

"How secure is the wolf?" Snape asked, eyeing the massive grey lupine twitching on the stones. A low growling eminated from

"Yes, and is there anything magical about him? Animagus or anything?" Hermione wanted to know.

Lupin shook his head. "He's just a wolf, nothing more. A killer wolf, but nothing magical. I imagine he's good for a bit, Severus. And you can always _Stupefy_ him again."

"Good." Snape cast _Stupefy_, and the wolf stopped twitching. Snape stepped over it calmly and went to examine one of the several pieces of Greyback that littered the floor. "I'll need to collect some blood and tissue samples, to see whether the potion worked or not."

"I think it must have," Hermione said. "It's designed to split apart what doesn't belong, from what does belong. I think it split Greyback the wolf apart from Greyback the man…"

"Whereupon Greyback the wolf had himself a little snack," Lupin finished. "You can hardly blame him, though. We did leave the victim immobilized for his convenience."

"Ew, Remus!" Hermione wrinkled her nose.

He laughed. "Sorry, Hermione. Sometimes my sense of humor gets a little dark."

"As does your intellect," Snape said. "But that's no surprise, really, is it?" He stood up again with a container full of disgusting brown liquid. "I've got my samples, Remus. You can clean this mess up, if you please. Miss Granger and I have got work to do."

"What shall you do with the wolf, then?" Hermione asked, skirting the shaggy creature nervously as she preceded Snape out into the hall.

"Get rid of it," Lupin said sharply. He answered Hermione's questioning look with a decisive nod. "It's a man-eater, Hermione. We can't let it live."

"Kill it and burn them both," Snape suggested. "And be quick about it." He followed Hermione out, and both of them paused and waited right outside the door for him.

Lupin nodded. He cast the slicing spell, to neatly decapitate the wolf, and then cast "_Incendio_!" on the carcass of the wolf, its head, and all of the remaining Greyback-bits. For good measure, he cast _"Bombasto Maximus!"_ Then he ducked out and slammed the door behind him.

In a few minutes, the fire had died down and he opened the door again. The walls were scorched where the manacles hung, and there was a pile of ash on the floor where the wolf had lain.

"_Evanesco_!" Lupin cast, and the room was clean again.

"Good," Snape grunted. "Let's go."

In his examinations of Greyback's blood and tissue, he found that the man had indeed been cured of lycanthropy. Apparently every part of the wolfish nature of the man had become embodied in an actual wolf, leaving the man completely normal in body… bare minutes before he had been attacked and mostly devoured by the wolf in question.

Which left the ticklish question, what would happen to Lupin if they tried it on him?

None of them ventured to bring it up for the next week. Snape researched several anti-lycanthropy variations of the Horcrux potion; Lupin prepared their reports to submit to the Ministry; and Hermione spent all her spare time reading ahead in her classes again.

She had discovered that while she'd been working so hard on the Horcrux project, her teachers had finally caught their classes up with her level. The only thing to be done was to spend some extra time getting ahead again, so that she would have time to spare when and if Lupin decided to try their cure.

It was Lupin himself who finally brought it up. He had finished copying Snape's and Hermione's notes in his clear, copperplate hand, and pushed the stack of notes aside. Snape was doing his marking, and Hermione was working on her class work. She had taken to studying down in Snape's office with her two partners, rather than in the library; there were fewer distractions, and she found it very convenient to have two adult mentors to question while she worked.

"All right, let's talk about the next experiment," he said.

Snape exchanged a glance with Hermione, and both of them put down their quills. "What about it?" Snape asked warily.

"I'll do it. Next full moon."


	27. Mastery

Lupin brought their notes about the experiment to Dumbledore as usual, but with some trepidation. What would the Headmaster say? Lupin had seen his chance to finally capture Greyback (who had been eluding the Aurors for months), and he hadn't thought twice about it. Now, considering that he and his co-conspirators were indirectly responsible for the man's death, he wouldn't be surprised to be carted off to Azkaban as soon as they showed up in the Headmaster's office.

Dumbledore went hard on them for the kidnapping, the experiment, and its ultimate conclusion, but that was nothing compared to his rage at Lupin's bringing such a dangerous creature into his school in the first place. "You endangered the lives of all the children here!" he bellowed. "Remus, I thought better of you! And you two!" He rounded on Snape and Hermione, who flinched. "You two encouraged him! Even went through with the experiment, knowing it would mean Greyback's presence here would risk the lives of every child in this school!"

Face flaming, Hermione kept her eyes fixed on the floor, while Lupin flushed and took a step back. Snape, however, stepped forward and took the brunt of the Headmaster's anger, smoothly explaining that he would never have agreed to it if he'd thought there was any danger. "The werewolf was chained to the wall in one of the lower dungeons, wandless, kept behind two locked and barred doors, and watched with a monitoring spell the entire time he was alive."

Then he lifted his chin and dropped his voice a little, and went on the attack. "As a Hogwarts teacher for fifteen years, I rather resent the assumption that we did not take the students' well-being into consideration, Headmaster. Imagine what might have happened to some of them in the coming conflict if Greyback were still on the loose! I weighed the possibility of him escaping from here against the certainty of his attacking and infecting at least one of the students or Order members fighting against the Dark Lord, and I did decide to go through with the experiment."

Hermione couldn't believe her eyes. Snape and the Headmaster, toe to toe, and it was Dumbledore who, after a tense, glaring silence, backed down first.

The old man nodded. "You're right, Severus." He sighed. "I do wish this war didn't constantly put us in the position of having to choose the lesser of two evils."

Snape nodded, a cynical smile curling his thin lips. "Or the least of many," he muttered.

Dumbledore looked at him and gave him a sympathetic smile, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder. "True, Severus. Very true. And you're put into that position more often than any of us."

"True, Dumbledore. Very true," Snape mocked.

Dumbledore gave him a sharp look. "All the same, if you three are going to be performing dangerous experiments on sentient beings in my school, next time I would appreciate being informed before it happens, rather than after the fact!"

"Yes, Headmaster." Snape nodded and stepped back to his place next to Lupin and Hermione.

Lupin and Hermione exchanged glances, then glared at Snape.

Snape heaved a theatrical sigh and cleared his throat. "Headmaster, you should be aware that we're going to conduct a similar experiment a few weeks from now."

Dumbledore frowned. "Who is the subject this time?"

Lupin stepped forward. "I am."

Dumbledore didn't like it, but since Lupin was consenting in full knowledge of the risks, there was little he could do.

For the rest of the month Lupin vacillated between excitement, nervousness, and utter terror. Finally, the night before the full moon arrived, and the three researchers readied themselves for their real, live beta-tester.

"Tonight's the night, Remus," Hermione said in greeting as she unloaded her schoolbooks on the table across from him in Snape's office. "Are you ready?"

"As I'll ever be," Lupin replied. "I do hope it won't do me any harm, at any rate."

"It shouldn't," Snape replied, head bent over his marking as usual. In a falsely virtuous tone of voice, he quoted, "'That which doesn't kill you makes you stronger.'" In his normal sardonic tone, he continued, "So whether it cures you or not, Remus, I'm sure you'll find it a personally enriching experience to spend the night shackled to the wall down there."

Lupin chuckled. "Ah, Severus, I didn't know you were into that sort of thing." He shot Hermione a conspiratorial grin. "Shouldn't be too surprised, though. One hears all sorts of things about Death Eaters and their proclivities."

"True," Hermione joined in the teasing. "Shackles are the least of it, from what I hear in the schoolgirl rumor mill."

"All exaggerated, I am sure," Snape replied smoothly, still not bothering to look up from his marking. "Death Eaters' tortures are nothing compared to the horrific imaginings of a schoolgirl."

"Oi!" Hermione protested as Snape raised his head long enough to smirk at her. Lupin grinned back at him.

He put away his parchment. "The potion is ready, Remus," he said, rising, "but you don't have to do it tonight, if you want to put it off another night."

Because werewolves often transformed on the night before and the night after the full moon as well as at the full moon itself, they had three nights in which to test the potion.

Lupin gulped, but gamely said, "Tonight. No time like the present. We'll reconvene down here after dinner, and then you can both shackle me to the wall like I know you've been dying to do for a month now."

"Oh, Remus," Snape said, deadpan, in a monotone, "however have you managed to divine my most secret desires towards you?"

Lupin and Hermione laughed, and she put her hand on his arm. "Don't worry, Remus," she said. "I promise you, I have no secret desires toward you, shackles or otherwise. Just to cure you." She paused a beat, then added in an undertone, "I wouldn't dream of infringing on Professor Snape's territory."

Both men were startled into laughter, and the three of them went up to dinner in a more cheerful frame of mind.

They met up again down there after dinner, and in silence Hermione followed the two men down to the deeper dungeon. Lupin's cheer had worn off, and he was visibly frightened, but his strides did not falter. Neither did his bright, white Lumos spell.

They stopped outside the heavy door, and Snape took out his keys to unlock it. The keys jingled loudly in the damp darkness. The three of them filed into the room and stopped to look at the manacles for a moment.

Snape cleared his throat uncomfortably and stated what they had all been thinking. "Greyback deserved what he got here. He would have treated any of us far, far worse. And in a way, his death could even be considered suicide: it was his own savage nature that killed him."

"Yes, but what about mine?" Lupin finally voiced the thought that had been so obviously worrying him.

Snape squeezed Lupin's shoulder and looked at him seriously. "We will not let anything happen to you, Remus," he promised. "Even if your inner wolf manifests itself like Greyback's did, I give you my word that Miss Granger and I will watch over you."

"Cheers, Severus," Lupin thanked him and offered his hand. Snape shook it and clapped him on the shoulder, and then turned away to examine the shackles on the wall.

Lupin turned to Hermione.

"We will, Remus," she promised in turn, giving him a hug. "Professor Snape and I will protect you from the Big, Bad Wolf. We promise."

Lupin returned the hug, chuckling, and thanked her. Then he stood back against the wall while Snape started fastening all the manacles.

"I want you both to know something," Lupin said, holding up first one wrist, then the other, for Snape to clasp the iron bands around them. "In case anything goes wrong here, I want you to remember that I agreed to this of my free will, and don't hold you responsible. You're also the best friends a man could ask for, and if anything does go wrong, it still will have been worth it."

"Oh, Remus!" Hermione choked.

"Oh, do stop, before I cry," Snape replied dryly, as he bent down to fasten the waist-band with its iron attachment going between Lupin's legs. "And as long as we're all waxing sentimental, I should tell you that I wouldn't do this for just anyone."

"No?" Lupin said with a grin.

"No," Snape said, straightening up again painfully, arching his back to stretch it. "Nailing someone's balls to the wall is a privilege I reserve only for special friends and werewolves."

Lupin laughed out loud. "Severus, coming from you, it's an honor." His face took on a greyish cast as he continued, "But, uh, Hermione?" He swallowed nervously. "Don't, uh, don't make the shackles spiky this time, eh?"

Hermione blushed at his reference to what she'd done to Greyback, but retorted, "Keep a civil tongue in your head and I won't have to, will I?"

# # #

That night there was no question of Hermione's not staying in the dungeon with Snape after curfew, proprieties or no. Snape made no protest as she sat down at the table across from him and used her wand to angle the magical readout so she could see it, too. She gave him a questioning glance up when they heard the bell ring for curfew, but he shook his head.

"Don't worry about curfew. If I'm summoned again, I'll need you here."

Even Dumbledore, when he came down to join them, said nothing about Hermione's presence after curfew with a young male teacher. His manner was all concern about Lupin.

"How is he?" the old man asked. "Has he transformed yet?"

Snape shook his head. "He told me that if he's not in full moonlight, he doesn't transform until midnight."

"We're planning to go down there at quarter to, and wait right outside the door," Hermione explained. "That way we can get to him quickly, if he seems to be in any danger."

"He seems a little excited," Dumbledore remarked, pointing at the line on the monitoring spell that showed Lupin's heartbeat.

"But his magic's at an all-time high," Hermione observed, pointing to the bluish arrow on the right. "If he keeps up this level of magic after he's cured, he could end up being a _very_ powerful wizard."

"How nice for him," Snape muttered sarcastically. "I'm more concerned with his heart rate. If he has a heart attack before he even transforms, then it won't matter how powerful a wizard he is."

"Should we have Madam Pomfrey here?" Hermione asked.

"As we get closer to midnight, yes," Snape said. "I hadn't wanted the security risk, but..."

"But this is Remus," Hermione supplied.

He glanced up. "Exactly. I've asked her to come down before midnight."

"I'm glad to see you both have matters well in hand," Dumbedore said. "I'll go inform Poppy that she'll be needed down here around half-eleven or so. And don't worry about the security risk, Severus. Let me worry about that. Just see that you send me a patronus if anything... unexpected... happens."

"I've already made arrangements with the matron, Headmaster," Snape replied. He glanced up at his employer. "We shan't be taking any chances, Dumbledore."

"I have faith in you, Severus." Dumbledore rose and went to the door, turning to add, "I have faith in both of you." He watched them a moment longer before he left.

Hermione and Snape sat facing each other across the worktable, with the magical readout between them. They talked quietly, brief exchanges before lapsing back into a focused silence. Dumbledore smiled and strode down the hallway, whistling.

Half-eleven came and went, but Madam Pomfrey didn't come.

At 11:45, Snape flipped open his pocket watch and checked the time. "Poppy should be here for this last bit," Snape said. "Just in case. It's a quarter to twelve. I wonder what's keeping her."

He flipped his watch closed and slid it back into his pocket. He rose and said, "Come, Miss Granger. Poppy or no Poppy, we must get down there."

They hurried down to Lupin's cell, Hermione nearly dancing with impatience as Snape fumbled for his keys to open the door to the lower dungeon.

There was no noise when they arrived outside the door to Lupin's cell. Snape peered into the high window. "He's all right," he reported. "Looks nervous, but who wouldn't be?"

Hermione was busily taking notes. "What signs of nervousness?"

"Perspiring heavily, pale, and his hands are trembling," Snape told her. He watched a moment longer, and Hermione saw him raise his eyebrows and then nod in relief.

"He's watching the window, but he just signaled that he's all right." He checked his watch again. "Damn. Where the hell is Poppy?" he growled. He turned and began to pace a few steps up and down the hallway.

Hermione pulled out her wand and conjured a step-stool so she could see Lupin through the window. He was indeed pale and sweating, but he managed a weak smile when he saw her worried face at the window.

It was 11:48.

Suddenly Snape swore. "Someone's tripping my office wards. Probably Poppy. She doesn't know her way down here." He glanced up at Hermione. "I'll be right back."

He took off running, turning to jog backwards long enough to call to her, "Don't open that door until I get back, no matter what happens!" Then he was up the stairs and away.

Hermione checked her watch. It was 11:51.

She hopped down from the stool and ran a short way up the corridor to see if Snape was back with Madam Pomfrey yet.

No such luck.

Now it was her turn to pace the corridor, from the door of Lupin's cell to the base of the stairway and back. Back and forth. She checked her watch again.

It was 11:55.

She climbed onto the stool in front of the high window again, giving Lupin an encouraging smile. He had soaked through his shirt, and his sandy hair hung limply in his eyes. He gave her a nod, but then looked past her and gave her a questioning look -- where was Severus?

She gave him another nervous smile and jumped down again. She returned to the bottom of the stairway. She peered up it, listening hard for footsteps, or the clanking sound of the door opening--anything! But there was no sound except for her rapid breathing and the pounding of her own heart.

It was 11:58.

Palms sweating, she made her way back to the cell door. In less than two minutes, there would be either a feral, killer wolf or a full-fledged werewolf on the other side of that door. Either possibility was terrifying. She wiped her hands down the sides of her trousers.

It was 11:59.

Frozen with fear, she watched the seconds until Lupin's transformation ticking down on her watch.

At 11:59:30, she heard the door at the top of the stairs clang open, then slam shut. She heard Snape's keys jingle as he re-locked it behind him.

But why take the time--ah. Of course. If Lupin did turn into anything dangerous, he wouldn't want to endanger the students, but rather keep the wolf safely contained in the dungeons.

She heard his running footsteps as he flew down the stairs, then down to the lower level. It sounded as if he touched only one or two steps on the whole flight of stairs.

It was 12:00 midnight.

Hermione stood on the stool, frozen to the window as Lupin began to change. His limbs grew longer, and the hair on his body grew shaggy His nose and mouth elongated into a wolf's muzzle, and she could see a furry tail begin to grow from behind him.

He looked up and met her eyes as he completed the change. His expression went from horror-struck, to puzzled, to exuberant in just a split second, just as Snape appeared at the bottom of the stairs, running for all he was worth.

"Don't...open...the...door!" he panted.

Hermione had had no such intention, but was glued to the window, gripping the barred door in white-knuckled excitement.

She started to say, "I'm not--" but Snape put one arm around her waist and swung her down off the stool before she could finish the sentence.

"How is he? Let me see," he ordered, shoving the stool aside in a frenzy of impatience. He pressed his face to the window.

"He started to change," Hermione said, "But then he looked almost... happy... about it."

Snape frowned, puzzled. "He seems fine now. Human."

He reached for the bar, to lift it, but Hermione reached out and stopped him. "Where is Madam Pomfrey?"

"Here I am," puffed the matron. "Goodness, Severus, what a lot of stairs! I hope you didn't expect me to keep up with you! Gang way, you two. What _have_ you been doing to poor Remus?"

"That's what we want you to find out," Snape said grimly. "But let us go in first, hmm?"

"All right," Madam Pomfrey agreed, leaning against the opposite wall to catch her breath.

Snape lifted the bar and gingerly opened the door a crack. It was silent inside the room He opened the door wider.

A low growl made him pause, and he took out his wand. "Remus?" he called through the opening. "Are you all right? We're coming in!"

He pushed the door open wider, Hermione glued to his side. The growling grew louder, but they heard Lupin speak a sharp word and it ceased.

Hermione, not waiting for Snape's permission, pushed the door the rest of the way open.

Lupin still stood chained and shackled to the wall. In front of him, hackles raised as he faced the unknown threat at the door, stood a large grey wolf.

Snape raised his wand at the wolf, but Lupin said, "No, Severus! He's not going to hurt anyone." He looked at the wolf. "Go," he ordered it, tilting his head at the far corner of the room. It slunk over to the corner, ears up and eyes alert.

"Down!" Lupin directed, and the wolf sank into a crouch, head up.

"Stay!" and the wolf finally put its head down on his front paws.

"Now then, chaps," Lupin said genially to his companions. "How about getting me out of this, hmm?"

"Not until Poppy has a look at you," Snape said. "Poppy!"

The matron came bustling in, wand already in motion as she cast one diagnostic spell after another. "Well, you certainly seem to be in fine health, Remus," she told him, "which is rather alarming, considering that you're supposed to be a fully transformed werewolf at the moment, and a rather worn-down man the rest of the time."

Snape, who had taken up a wand-raised guard stance between the wolf and the others, spoke. "We can't give you details, Poppy, but this is related to one of the things we've been working on for Dumbledore."

"Oh! None of my business, then, but whatever you've done certainly seems to have worked." Madam Pomfrey put away her wand and headed for the door. "But Severus, the next time you need me for something this important, you might try telling me beforehand what you need me for! Because you know my natural response, luv: when I'm faced with a bloody-nosed Ravenclaw, I'm going to want to stop the bleeding before I leave the hospital wing!" She marched out.

Lupin chuckled as Hermione began unfastening his manacles. "What did you tell her, Severus? Did you even mention it was a time-sensitive experiment?"

Snape cleared his throat. "I told her we'd need her this evening to help us monitor an experiment. Now, will you please tell me what is going on with this wolf? I came in here expecting to find you'd been turned into bloody bits of gristle, and instead it looks as if you have a new pet!"

Lupin lowered his newly-freed wrists with a sigh of relief as Hermione bent to open the leg shackles. "I can only theorize, but it would seem that a lifetime of trying to master my inner wolf has resulted in, well, mastery of him. I'm his alpha, and I suspect that spending thirty years in the subconscious of a human has apparently given him close to human intelligence."

Lupin glanced down "Uh, Hermione, would you mind undoing this one next?" he indicated the iron waist-band with its solid bar running down between his legs.

She blushed. "Sorry, Remus." She gingerly reached to unlock it, trying not to brush against his groin.

He grimaced. "It's just that I can't get those spikes out of my mind..." The shackle fell away and he breathed a sigh of relief.

"So what do we do with the wolf, then?" Snape wanted to know. "And what makes your inner wolf so compliant, while Greyback's wolf ate him?"

Lupin shrugged his shoulders and stretched as he stepped away from the wall. "Simple. Greyback never tried to control or subdue his inner wolf in any way, but gave himself over to it and let it control him. He released it as often as he could, he gave it a taste for human flesh, and he taught it to attack people who were tied up. He reaped what he sowed."

"Whereas you..." Hermione said thoughtfully.

Lupin continued the thought. "Whereas _I_ tried my hardest to master my inner wolf, to establish dominance over it, and never allow it free reign, even when I was transformed. So now that it is separate from me, I am its unquestioned master. By behaving just the opposite of Greyback, I seem to have achieved the opposite effect as he did." He glanced at the wolf, who raised its head expectantly.

"Come!" The wolf came to Lupin, who patted its head twice and then ordered, "Sit." The wolf sat down so fast they could hear the thump of its hind end hitting the floor.

"I wish my students were that obedient," Snape muttered. He took a step closer and the wolf growled at him.

"You can't let him do that, Severus," Lupin said with a frown. "Tell him to stop it. _Bark_ it at him."

"Stop it!" Snape snapped, and the wolf stopped growling. Snape looked at Lupin. "Why am I barking at a wolf, Remus?"

"You're establishing yourself as his pack superior," Lupin explained. "I'm his alpha, and he wants to protect me, but he also wants to be second in command. Every time he shows aggression towards someone, he is trying to establish his dominance over that person. We can't let him do that. You two are part of my 'pack,' so I need for him to obey you two just as he does me. Hermione, you try."

Hermione stepped forward and bent down toward the growling wolf.

"No!" Lupin said. "Don't get down to his level. Keep your head higher than his. Bark at him to 'stop it.'"

"Stop it!" Hermione said sharply.

The wolf continued to growl.

"Tell him again, and grab him by the scruff of his neck and give it a good shake."

Hermione did as directed, and the wolf stopped growling and lowered his head.

"That's done it, I think." Lupin snapped his fingers and the wolf came to him and sat down next to his left food. "Are we good to go, then?"

Snape nodded. "Congratulations on your new familiar, Remus."

"Thank you!" Lupin grinned.

"What will you name him?" Hermione wanted to know.

Lupin spread out his hands in an isn't-it-obvious gesture and replied, "Romulus, of course!"

Hermione giggled. "He is rather like your twin, in a way."

Dumbledore had been waiting up in his office, and was overjoyed to see Lupin alive and well, although slightly surprised to see him with such an obedient wolf in tow. He stuck out his fist for Romulus to give a polite sniff. Romulus didn't growl at Dumbledore at all. When Snape asked him about it later, Lupin flushed a little. "Probably because he knows that Dumbledore's _my_ alpha. He dares not growl at someone whom whom I call 'sir.'"

* * *

_AN: Sorry it's been so long since I updated! Real life has been putting me through the wringer lately... and it's only going to get worse before it gets better. But I'll try to update sooner next time. --CL_


	28. Celebration

The next day, the three researchers gathered around their usual table in Snape's office. Romulus the wolf flumped down beside Lupin and and promptly went to sleep.

"So what are we going to call this marvelous potion?" Lupin asked. "We can't always refer to it as 'that helpful side effect of the anti-Horcrux potion,' now, can we?"

"Well, it might very well be marketable, after the war is over," Hermione said thoughtfully. "Though I'm hoping we won't ever have any need for an anti-Horcrux potion after the Dark Lord is defeated."

"Hear, hear," Snape agreed, not looking up from his desk, where he was marking papers. "And do note the optimistic way she says 'after' he is defeated, Lupin. Not 'if.'"

"I did note that," Lupin remarked with a smile. "I find her optimism endearing. Don't you?"

"Endearing, annoying... one of them, anyway," Snape replied.

Hermione grinned at Lupin and shrugged. "Well, one of us has to be, to offset the two of you!"

"God forbid I should have anything in common with this git," Lupin said fervently, grinning.

"Mutual, I'm sure," Snape looked up at them, then. "How about _Antilycan_ ?"

"For the potion?" Lupin asked.

"No, for Christmas. Of course, for the potion, you ponce!"

"Oh, good. For Christmas I prefer jumpers," Lupin joked.

"And I'm partial to books and quills," Hermione put in.

Snape glared at them both until they both started to laugh.

"I think _Antilycan_ is a fine name for it, Professor," Hermione said.

Lupin nodded. "Not, bad, not bad. Will I get credit for helping invent it?"

"Of course," Snape said smoothly. "As our test subject, I'm sure you'll get plenty of publicity. You may even get others interested in your services."

"As a test subject?" Lupin asked, skeptical.

Snape nodded. "I've heard there's some Potioneer in Ukraine who is looking for a potion to make you handsome. He'd likely be very grateful to have you to test it on. Another in Ireland is creating a potion to prevent someone from being a sad, luckless bastard. He'd just love you."

Lupin laughed. "He might not mind you, either, Severus."

Snape shrugged and went back to his marking. "Perhaps not."

Hermione shook her head in wonder. "And you wonder why I'm optimistic? It's because I _have_ to be!"

Lupin laughed. "Well, maybe a ramble round the lake with my doggie would cheer me up," he said, rising. Romulus leaped to his feet, tail wagging.

"It sure as hell would me," Snape replied. "Off you go, now." Hermione made as if to rise, and he motioned her back down with the end of his quill. "Not you, Miss Granger. If we _are_ to market this potion, we have to do a full, publishable write-up of the entire process. I told Dumbledore about it, and he's given us a month to write a complete paper about the whole process."

"Oh, dear," Hermione said, slumping back down in her seat. "That's not much time."

Lupin gave her a smile over his shoulder as he and his "doggie" departed.

"No, it isn't, which is why we ought to get done as much as we can with Remus out of the way."

Over the next few weeks, Remus and Romulus were inseparable. Everyone got used to seeing the shabby, lanky professor striding around the grounds with his enormous grey wolf at his heels. Hermione got used to Romulus' snoring under the lab table while they worked. Snape complained bitterly about the dog hair, but more than once Hermione caught him stretching a foot under the table to scratch Romulus behind the ears with his toes.

Dumbledore, thrilled with Remus' recovery, had nevertheless sworn them all to secrecy about the "cure," because he didn't want Voldemort to find out about it. He went so far as to include Tonks in the secret, but he made her come to Hogwarts and make the same wand oath as the other three, so that they wouldn't discuss it with anyone but each other.

Lupin and Tonks were both thrilled. They quietly announced their engagement, and planned to marry at the end of June - "Whether Voldemort has been defeated or not!" Lupin said decisively, while Tonks, pink-haired and smiling, nodded emphatically beside him.

Hermione was very happy for them. Snape went so far as to refrain from sarcastic comments every single time the subject came up. He only did it every third or fourth time instead, by which action Hermione and Lupin assumed that he was happy for them as well. He even admitted as much, when the next full moon arrived and, although carefully monitored, Lupin did not change, and neither did the wolf.

There was more Death Eater activity reported in Hogsmeade, so they hadn't had a chance to go out and celebrate together for the entire month. Finally, Dumbledore gave them permission to go out together - even Hermione - for an evening at the Three Broomsticks.

Hermione drank butterbeer, laughed, and teased her partners (and was teased by both of them right back), and felt as though she had finally arrived at adulthood. It was a nice feeling. She briefly wished that Harry and Ron were there, but smiled when she realized they probably would not arrive at adulthood for another year or two. In the meantime, she had her two "other" best friends, and was enjoying their company very much.

Lupin was enjoying himself very much, that was certain. He had drunk enough to be expansive and affectionate, and Hermione got a case of the giggles when he tried to give Snape a hug. Snape rolled his eyes and pushed Lupin away, but laughed when Hermione earnestly begged him to Pensieve the memory to show Lupin later.

"So, Hermione, no more 'Golden Trio' for the moment, eh?" Lupin teased her.

"That's all right, Remus," she answered. "They'll be back soon, and in the meantime I seem to be part of this trio."

"Not golden, though," Lupin said mournfully. "Sev an' I aren't exactly young and shiny anymore."

"Thank God," Snape put in.

"Anyway, gold is a soft metal," Hermione said thoughtfully. "Somehow I doubt either one of you would want to be thought of as soft."

"That's what she said!" Lupin crowed with a lascivious snicker. Snape smirked. Hermione blushed.

"I didn't mean it like that!" she protested, laughing. "I only meant you're both kind of... well, tough. You don't change according to the circumstances; you make the circumstances change according to you."

Snape scoffed and leaned over to tell her quietly, "I'm a spy, Miss Granger. If I don't adapt to the circumstances, I get killed. Your reasoning is faulty."

She thought about that. "Outwardly, yes, you do adapt. But the real you, the essence of Severus Snape - that doesn't change, does it?"

"Hasn't in thirty years," Lupin said. "The essential Snapishness of him remains intact, I think."

"I did undergo one major change during that time, though," Snape pointed out quietly. "Does that make me soft?"

"Soft-headed, to need that sort of change in the first place," Lupin said, "But not soft, to realize an error and change it." Lupin ignored Snape's stiffened back and thunderous expression, and went on. "Silver is harder than gold," Lupin said pensively. "And I'm not a werewolf anymore."

"Oh, by all means, DO announce that fact in public in the middle of Hogsmeade," Snape hissed at him.

Lupin glanced around, but didn't see anyone close enough to have heard him. "Damn. Sorry, Severus."

"It's your hide, not mine, if the word gets out," Snape told him quietly, but the flash of fear on his face belied his easy words.

Hermione, seeing the need for an immediate topic change, cleared her throat. "Not silver, then, and certainly not gold. How about titanium?"

"It doesn't tarnish," Lupin said.

"Neither does it rust," Snape remarked. "But it isn't shiny."

"And it's one of the hardest metals there is," Hermione said.

"It's settled, then," Lupin concluded aimiably. "We'll have to tell Dumbledore to call us the 'Titanium Trio."

"I'd rather die," Snape said flatly.

Hermione giggled again, then peered owlishly at her empty butterbeer bottle. "Think I ought to head back," she said, standing.

Snape nodded. "Yeah, me an' all." His northern accent came through just then, and he flushed a little. "Right, then. Let's go." He shoved his chair out and stood up.

"Think you had a little too much, Severus," Lupin twitted. "You sound like you did in school! Anyway, I think I'll stay here for a bit. Tonks should be getting out of work soon. Maybe she can join me for a late supper. I'll see you both back at the school."

Snape nodded, but Hermione frowned. "Be careful, Remus," she urged. "You know what Dumbledore said."

"Always am," he said. "You two be careful as well, eh? And, ah... don't wait up, right?"

Snape rolled his eyes and shook his head, and Hermione grinned. "Say hello to Tonks for me. 'Night, Remus!"

"Good night, you two," Lupin said, waving them towards the door as he stood and made his way over to floo Tonks. "See you at Dumbledore's in the morning."

"Nine sharp," Snape called, opening the door for Hermione to precede him out into the chilly early spring evening.

"Nine sharp," Lupin echoed over his shoulder at them as he bent to put his head into the floo.

Hermione and Snape fell into stride as they headed back up toward Hogwarts. "I'm a bit nervous about tomorrow, Professor," she confessed.

He scoffed. "You, who didn't falter when feeding a dangerous potion to one of her closest friends, are nervous about showing our notes about it to an Auror and a doddering old man?"

"Silly, isn't it?"

"Yes."

"Are you nervous too, sir?"

"Yes."

She smiled at him and they walked the rest of the way in silence.


	29. Horror

Author's Note: This chapter refers to violent acts. There is also a character death in this chapter. There was no way around it. I'm sorry.

* * *

Promptly at 9:00 the next morning, Snape and Hermione met outside Dumbledore's office and nodded to each other. Snape spoke the password and they rode the spiral staircase to the top.

"Ah, here you are," Dumbledore greeted them. Shacklebolt, sitting across from the desk, gave them both a nod and a smile. "But where is Remus?" Dumbledore asked.

They glanced at each other in surprise. "He didn't meet us in the dungeon this morning, but we thought he'd be here with you," Hermione replied.

Dumbledore frowned. "When did you last see him?"

"Last night, when we left him in Hogsmeade," Snape said. "He was about to floo Tonks."

"He... he told us not to wait up," Hermione added shyly.

Dumbledore pursed his lips. "If he'd been planning to be gone overnight, he would have let me know. I must confess I am worried."

A quick consultation with the chief house-elf confirmed that Lupin had neither slept in his bed nor eaten breakfast at the castle. Dumbledore quickly scribbled a note: "Is Remus with you?" and handed it to Fawkes.

"Take this to Nymphadora Tonks," he directed the phoenix. "Remus Lupin seems to have gone missing."

Fawkes took the message and disappeared in a spurt of flame.

"Well, until we can track down Remus, let's go ahead and get started without him. Kingsley, what have you found?"

They discussed the latest news of ministry doings, and briefly outlined their progress with the Horcrux potion for Kingsley. They didn't go into detail about their side project until Remus arrived and could tell them about the _Antilycan_himself.

Dumbledore to the window and glimpseda flash of red. "Ah, here comes Fawkes with our answer."

He opened the window and Fawkes flew in. The phoenix dropped the note on Dumbledore's desk. He picked it up and read aloud, "Haven't seen him for a week. How long has he been missing? Tonks."

"She hasn't seen him? Then he never connected with her last night when we were in Hogsmeade," Snape said, a worried frown drawing his brows together.

"Apparently not, and I must confess I'm beginning to―" A blur of motion and a whoosh of sound interrupted Dumbledore, who stepped back in alarm.

It was well that he did. A naked, blonde woman suddenly dropped out of thin air. Her limp body landed with a heavy _thump_ on the patterned carpet, and didn't move.

"What on earth―?" Dumbledore exclaimed in shock.

Snape had his wand out and aimed before the Headmaster had even opened his mouth.

The woman was bruised and bleeding, her blonde hair caked to her head with dried blood.

"Oh! She's hurt!" Hermione said, rushing forward, wand out.

"Miss Granger, don't―" Snape started to say, but Hermione was already there, casting a series of diagnostic spells.

Snape growled. "It could have been a trap, you know."

Hermione shook her head, not even pausing in her spell-casting. "With you and Professor Dumbledore right here, I'd be safe even if it had been a trap."

Snape knelt down beside her next to the woman, wand still out to cast his own diagnostic spells. His spells were less concerned with the woman's health than they were with what Dark magic she might be carrying. When Hermione cast, the woman's body took on a faint yellow glow, which Hermione countered with another spell. After that one, the woman's breathing evened out slightly.

Snape's spells surrounded the woman with a sickly greenish glow, with a hint of grey. He shook his head with a frown. "She's been under the _Cruciatus_ for quite some time," he muttered. "Not sure whether that was before or after she obtained the cuts and internal injuries." He knew what the yellow glow had meant, just as well as Hermione had.

The woman groaned and started to tremble.

"Who is she? How did she get here?" Kingsley wanted to know.

"Portkey," Snape said shortly, pointing to the wooden button clenched tightly in the woman's hand. He pried it out of her fingers and held it up. "Specifically, Remus' emergency portkey."

"Oh, no!" Hermione said, looking at him in horror. "So what's happened to Remus, then?"

"I'd also be interested to know what happened to this young lady," Dumbledore put in. "Miss Granger, have you got her stabilized? Yes? Then I'll alert Poppy to take her to the hospital wing."

Dumbledore quickly transfigured the tea cozy into a blanket and covered the shivering, bloody woman. He gently rolled her over into the blanket, so that all of her was covered. Then he cast his Phoenix Patronus, which flew out the window toward the hospital wing.

Seeing the woman's face, now in ¾ profile, Hermione exclaimed, "Oh, Professor!"

"Who is it?" Dumbledore asked.

"I know who this is. She's a muggle! She's the woman who bought my parent'shouse and dental practice. But what would she be doing with Remus' portkey?"

"Do they know each other?" Snape asked, rising.

Hermione shook her head. "No, they only met briefly on Boxing Day, when Remus came to my house to pick me up for the party." Her brow furrowed in thought. "I wonder if…" Her voice trailed off.

"What would a muggle be doing with Remus' portkey?" Kingsley wondered aloud.

"It seems we shall have to wait and see what this young lady has to tell us when she recovers," Dumbledore said.

There was a knock at the door, which swung open to reveal Poppy Pomfrey, the Matron.

"I'm here. Where's the patient?" she asked crisply.

Dumbledore pointed to the blonde woman, crumpled on the carpet.

"Oh, the poor dear! What happened?" Poppy said, her sympathetic words seemingly at odds with the briskness with which she got to work.

"We don't know yet," Snape said. "My spells tell me she has been under the cruciatus, and Miss Granger's spells tell us she was beaten badly. Then she portkeyed directly here into the Headmaster's office. We don't know much more than that, except Miss Granger, who apparently knows her identity."

"Yes," Hermione said, standing up. "She's a muggle named Priscilla Hardwicke. So you might want to avoid some of the more extreme treatments with her, Madam Pomfrey―I've read that sometimes muggles don't respond any better to magical treatments than wizards do to muggle ones."

"It's true," Madam Pomfrey replied absently. She glanced up. "Severus, a stretcher please? And when you get a moment, I think Miss Hardwicke here could probably benefit from some Bee Well potion."

Snape conjured a stretcher and gently rolled Priscilla onto it. Then he levitated it and helped Madam Pomfrey take over the levitation spell. "I just finished making some Bee Well out of Hagrid's new honey. I put it in your cabinet last night. Let us know the instant she is awake and able to tell us what happened," he ordered. "Someone's life may depend upon it."

His brusque tone formed a sharp contrast to the gentleness with which he helped the young woman, and Hermione was struck by the difference between his approach and the Matron's. Madam Pomfrey spoke sensitive words, but her movements and actions were very brisk and efficient. Professor Snape spoke curtly, his manner gruff, but his hands were gentle and caring. it was a good character study of the both of them, Hermione thought.

Madam Pomfrey left Dumbledore's office, with Priscilla on the stretcher floating in the air about waist-high in front of her.

"So what's happened to Remus, then?" Kingsley worried aloud.

Hermione frowned. "And why would Priscilla have anything to do with it?"

Snape stood by the window, gazing out in silence, with a frown.

Suddenly, he swore and ducked. A giant black owl swooped in, talons extended right where Snape's head had been. "Ruddy beast," he muttered as the owl wheeled and landed on Dumbledore's desk.

"That's odd," Dumbledore said, eyebrows raised. "My office is spelled against any bird's entry except Fawkes's." He exchanged worried glances with Kingsley and the others, and then turned to the black owl. "And whose might you be?" he asked it.

The owl hooted disdainfully and stuck out its leg, where a grubby little parcel was tied on.

"Oh, a package," Dumbledore said. He cast a quick diagnostic spell on it to reveal any curses it might have, then he untied it and the black owl gave a derisive hoot and flew back out the window.

Dumbledore unwrapped the small package to reveal a small, black chess pawn. He frowned as he picked it up and weighed it in his hand.

"Headmaster, what is it?" Snape asked, stepping forward and pulling out his wand.

Dumbledore cleared off the top of his desk and placed the pawn in the center of it. "It feels transfigured," he said, still frowning. "And heavy."

He waved his wand effortlessly over the pawn. Hermione suddenly remembered that he'd used to be the Transfiguration Master at Hogwarts.

The pawn shuddered for a moment and then began to expand; the round head at the top grew and expanded on top of the long neck, which turned into a disembodied human neck.

The top became Lupin's head.

"Oh, God!" Shacklebolt choked, turning away.

Hermione went pale and took a step forward. Almost clinically, she noted the bruises and contusions on the face, the dried blood in the corners of the mouth, and the missing ear. The left eye was sealed shut with dried blood, which gave the face a horrifyingly flirtatious expression.

"Oh, no, Remus!" Dumbledore said, mouth gaping in shock.

As if it had heard him, the head rolled over to face them. The mouth opened and Remus' voice issued forth.

It was definitely his voice, albeit a bit hoarse, as if he had been screaming recently. The words, however, were not Remus' words.

"This should show you, Dumbledore, that you cannot win! What happened to the werewolf will happen to everyone who resists the Dark Lord!" Then the mouth snapped shut and the other eye fell closed.

Sorrow lined Dumbledore's face. Shacklebolt's knees buckled and he folded up fast into a chair. Snape went pale, his mouth agape.

The sight and sound of Voldemort's message in Remus' disembodied mouth was too much for Hermione. She turned aside and conjured a large bowl just in time to catch the contents of her stomach.

Snape sank into a chair and buried his face in his hands. He heard Hermione's quiet "_Evanesco_" as she finished vomiting and started to cry. He couldn't cry. He felt nothing but shock. Just recently, Remus had said goodbye forever to his lycanthropy… only to be captured and killed a month later. He remembered tossing friendly barbs back and forth with Lupin over the cauldron of _Antilycan_. It seemed impossible that Lupin could be dead.

And yet, there was his head, lolling on Dumbledore's desk, unattached to his body.

Dumbledore conjured a scarf and covered the head with it, and then knelt beside Shacklebolt, trembling in the chair. The auror's usual rich, coffee-colored complexion had taken on the same greenish hue as weak coffee with skimmed milk. Dumbledore patted his arm.

Shacklebolt exhaled shakily. "Poor Remus."

Dumbledore nodded, his blue eyes brimming. "I will inform Tonks and the rest of the Order, Kingsley, if you would be so kind as to see that the Ministry is notified? And I believe he was closest to Minerva, since he had no family left. Perhaps she will be willing to see to the arrangements."

Shacklebolt stood up and started pacing. "I'll have to start a formal investigation. With any luck, I'll be able to lead it myself. Snape, Granger, I'll need statements from both of you."

Dumbledore tried to rise from where he was kneeling, but couldn't quite make it. Snape leaped to his feet and helped Dumbledore into the chair that Shacklebolt had just vacated. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the papers that they had prepared about the _Antilycan_ only yesterday, expanded them to their full size, and laid them on Dumbledore's desk.

The Headmaster looked up, questioning.

"It's the paper on _Antilycan_ ," Snape said quietly. He explained for Kingsley's benefit. "An actual cure for werewolves, which arose naturally out of our attempts at an anti-Horcrux potion. We made one copy for the Hogwarts library and one for the Ministry. Remus took the potion last month, as you know, and last night was the full moon. He didn't transform at all. We went out to Hogsmeade together last night, to celebrate. Miss Granger and I left him at the Three Broomsticks, where he'd been about to floo Tonks and see if she could join him for supper. That must have been where he was captured."

Dumbledore took the parchments, staring blankly at them, and then back up at Snape and Shacklebolt.

"Don't give me those papers, Dumbledore," Shacklebolt directed. "I don't think the Ministry ought to know about that quite yet, do you? I think they ought to be held in storage here at Hogwarts until things settle down."

"I concur," the Headmaster said. He shook his head. "It's just that much worse for the poor man, though. He finally got free of that lifelong curse, only to lose his life the next month!" A tear trickled down into his beard. He took out an enormous purple handkerchief and wiped his eyes. He shook his head sadly.

"I have to get to the Ministry to report this," Shacklebolt said as he headed for the door. He glanced back at Hermione and Snape. "I'll be contacting you about the statements."

Dumbledore nodded. He turned to the other two. "Severus, perhaps you might take Miss Granger and give her a calming draught. Perhaps take one for yourself, eh, son?"

"Yes, Headmaster," Snape said tightly. He gave the old man's shoulder a comforting squeeze, and then turned towards the door himself. He collected Hermione in passing, taking her hand and tucking it neatly through his arm without slowing down. Neither one said a word on the trek down to his office in the dungeons.


	30. The Anger Stage

The two of them left Dumbledore's office and made their way back down to Snape's lab in the dungeon. Hermione trudged beside him in shock, only letting go of his arm when they were in sight of students, and then silently taking it again as soon as they were out of sight. Back in the lab, she went to her usual lab stool while Snape wordlessly got out a calming draught. Hermione measured out a dose and handed it to him.

He gestured for her to keep it. Hermione surmised that with his best friend dead, he didn't _want_ to feel peaceful.

He prowled the room while Hermione, perched miserably on a lab stool near the cauldron of Antilycan potion, drank the dose. Just looking at the cauldron made her want to cry, but that was better than heaving her guts out like she had done upstairs. Her throat was still sore from the bile, and the calming draught felt cool and soothing as it went down.

Snape brushed past a container of stirring rods and knocked it over. The rods went crashing to the floor, and one rolled towards his feet. he looked down and kicked it. It made a tinkling sound as it shattered against the wall.

He took two steps closer and kicked at the rest of them, a vicious sneer on his face. He stomped on a glass one and ground it under his heel. Then he whirled around and strode across the room, knocking over a wooden stand of student vials as he went. The noise of the glass breaking seemed to fuel his fury. He kicked over a lab stool; swept off the surfaces with one swipe of his arm, and kicked and stomped on the equipment as it landed on the floor, growls of rage accompanying his every move. Hermione watched as he blew through the lab in a whirlwind of destruction. She noticed a few pieces of parchment across the table in Remus' usual spot, covered in his small, tidy penmanship. She pulled them toward her and scanned the top one. It was full of anti-Horcrux notes, but he had been in too much of a hurry last night to finish his final sentence. She gasped with the realization that he never would.

Hearing her gasp, Snape turned and strode swiftly toward her. She held out the Draught of Peace bottle, her expression wary as she clutched the parchments close to her chest. He growled and knocked it out of her hand.

Paying no heed to his hands, he grabbed the edge of the steaming cauldron. With an angry roar, he tipped it over.

Hermione squeaked and drew her legs up to avoid the—

SPLASH! The _Antilycan _poured out onto the floor. The cauldron landed with a loud _CLANG!_ and chipped a flagstone.

Snape watched, panting, as the tide of silvery-blue potion washed over the rubble that used to be a well-stocked potions lab.

He glanced down at his burned hands for a moment, but a billow of smoke distracted him from his pain.

"Oh, bugger," he muttered, only now realizing that the _Antilycan_ was coming into contact with the silver cauldron he'd pitched into the corner a moment before. Silver was anathema to any sort of werewolf potion, and the anti-Horcrux potion had proved no exception.

He turned to Hermione, perched wide-eyed on the top of the lab stool in her school robes.

"So much for the Draught of Peace," he said roughly. "Here, Miss Granger." He lifted her right off the stool and carried her quickly into his office. He kicked the door shut behind him, and set her down on the sofa.

It was not a moment too soon. She had barely let go of him when they heard a small explosion from the lab behind them.

Snape winced. That was probably hundreds of galleons worth of damage.

Hermione apparently thought he was wincing at the pain in his hands after carrying her from the lab. She jumped up and pushed him gently down onto the couch. "Here, let's get your hands sorted," she said, putting down the parchments.

Taking one of his hands in both of hers, she chanted a healing spell. Then she repeated it with the other hand. Snape watched impassively as she got the burn-healing paste and rubbed it into his blistering skin. He hardly blinked as she conjured a bandage and wrapped up both of his palms.

He had no idea that tears were starting down his face, until she had finished her mission of mercy and sat back on her heels to look up at him.

She was crying, too.

He didn't know whether he reached for her, or whether she initiated the embrace, but a moment later she was beside him on the couch, half in his lap, with his arms around her, both weeping. He clutched her convulsively, forehead on her shoulder, tears soaking her robes even as he felt her own tears trickling into his lank, oily hair.

He lost track of how long they sat there crying in each other's arms, but eventually the sobbing subsided into a few sniffles and a wet hiccough or two.

He released the young woman, who sat back slowly next to him and stretched. She conjured two white handkerchiefs and handed him one with no comment.

He nodded his thanks, and nothing else was said. Until there was a knock at the door and Snape palmed his wand and called, "Come!"

Horace Slughorn stuck his head in. "Afternoon, Severus," he said in his fruity, unctuous voice. "Sorry to bother you, old man, but there seems to have been a bit of an accident in the lab. I was wondering if you knew what happened, or if I might be of service? I'd been planning to bring my seventh-years in here and show them how to set up their own labs today."

Snape stood up. His voice was tight as he said, "Forgive me for not clearing up the mess, Slughorn. You remember our friend Remus?"

Slughorn nodded.

"We've just had word that he's been killed by Death Eaters," Snape told him baldly. "So if you'll be so kind as to give us a few nore moments in private, we'll go clean things up in the lab as soon as we can."

"Oh! Of course, old chap. I mean," Slughorn's eyes were wide. "I'm so sorry to hear it. Such a nice lad, even if he was a werewolf. Don't trouble yourself about the lab, my dear fellow, please. Take all the time you need. My seventh-years can brew in the classroom today."

Flustered, Slughorn withdrew.

Snape dropped back into the sofa and buried his face in his hands.

Hermione and Snape said nothing for a long while, but only sat in silence with only their shoulders touching, until Snape raised his head again.

"Shall we go clear up, then?" she asked quietly.

He nodded and heaved himself to his feet. "You don't have to," he said. "I made the mess."

She lifted one shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. "You only expressed what I was feeling. We'll both go."


	31. Civil War

It took them a long time to get the sticky, syrupy blue potion cleaned up and the cauldrons washed, and even longer to repair the glassware that could still be saved. Most of it they just swept up and Vanished.

They had just finished with the job when a silvery-grey patronus of a fat greylag goose flew into the room and spoke in Madam Pomfrey's voice. "The young muggle lady is waking up."

Hermione and Snape were on their feet and out the door in a raced up to the hospital wing, with Snape striding quickly along behind her, cloak rippling out behind him. Madam Pomfrey met them at the door.

"She's only just awakened," the matron told them. "But she's badly confused and in a lot of pain. Professor Dumbledore says we need some information from her, or else she'd have been obliviated and sent to a muggle hospital. Right now he's petitioning the Ministry for an exemption/exception to the Statute of Secrecy. If it's not granted, or if she breaks it, she'll be Obliviated anyway."

"May we see her?" Hermione asked.

Madam Pomfrey stood aside and let them both enter.

Priscilla lay on her back, pale, wide-eyed, and twitchy. She started violently when she saw them, but then recognized Hermione.

"Hermione!" she cried. "It was terrible! It was your friend from Christmas. Is he all right? Did he end up here, as well?"

Hermione's eyes filled as she shook her head. "They killed him, Priscilla. We just got word a little while ago. But what about you? Are you going to be all right?"

Priscilla's voice started shaking. "I don't know how to put into words what happened to me," she said, starting to cry. "I'm sure I'm going mad, since most of what happened simply can't happen at all. It's impossible! No one would ever believe it!" She broke into sobs.

Madam Pomfrey nudged Snape aside and handed the young woman a vial. "Here you go, luv. This will dull the pain for a bit, so you can tell Hermione and the professor what happened." In an undertone, she muttered to Snape, "It's a Draught of Peace. Harmless to muggles."

He nodded and waited until Priscilla had drunk the draught and had calmed slightly before he stepped forward.

"Oh!" Hermione remembered her manners. "Priscilla, this is Professor Severus Snape, a good friend of mine and Remus'. You're in the hospital wing at my school in Scotland." She turned to Snape with a formal air. "Professor Snape, this is Priscilla Hardwicke, the dentist who bought my parents' practice and our house."

Snape nodded to the blonde woman on the bed. "Ms. Hardwicke, I wish we could have met under better circumstances; as it is, I assure you, we are quite disposed to believe almost anything you could tell us about your experiences."

"How can you, when I don't believe them myself?" Priscilla sniffled, shaking her head. "I'm surprised I lived through what they did to me, and here I am only a little battered. How can you believe me, when most of what they did didn't even leave a mark?" She took a deep, shuddering breath, and looked up at Hermione. "How did I get here? In the middle of all that blood, I suddenly wind up at a school?"

"Hogwarts isn't an ordinary boarding school," Hermione told her. She darted a quick glance at Snape, who merely gave her a shrug and a twitch of his head that looked almost like a nod. She guessed that even if Dumbledore's exception didn't go through, whoever had attacked Priscilla had already broken the Statute of Secrecy in a big way. In for a penny… "It's a school of magic," she continued. "It's also the safest place in Britain."

"School of magic?" Priscilla's eyes widened, and her tone was tinged with incredulity.

"There is a community of magical folk, genuine witches and wizards, living alongside the non-magical folk in Britain," Snape explained curtly. "Those we call muggles. A civil war is currently taking place in the magical community."

"One side wishes power and education for only the magically-bred citizens, the 'purebloods,'" Hermione clarified, "while the other side wishes all magical people to have equal access to power and education, whether their parents were magical or muggle."

"I see," Priscilla said, blonde brows drawn together in consternation.

"Miss Granger and I are on the side of equality for all magical folk, whether muggle- or magical-born," Snape said.

Hermione noticed with pleasure that he used her terminology of "magical-born" instead of the more commonly-used "pureblood." She stepped closer to Priscilla's bed. "It was the pureblood faction who killed my parents," she told the older woman. "In buying their house and practice, you apparently became a target. I'm so terribly sorry, Priscilla. If I had known what would happen…"

"This is beyond belief!" Priscilla muttered to herself. "A magical world? Next thing you'll be telling me that pigs fly."

"Uh, no, not exactly," Hermione said. She didn't think this was a good time to mention Lacreethas, the tiny, winged, wild ursines who inhabited the treetops in the Amazonian rainforest.

"How else do you explain your presence here?" Snape asked matter-of-factly.

"I don't know!" Priscilla said, her voice rising, her words coming out in a rush. "One minute I'm in my house watching the telly, the next minute I'm in the middle of a forest getting beaten and attacked by a bunch of goons in masks and robes, and the next minute your friend Remus is there with a stick in his hand, moving things around with telekinesis or something. And he sends this button over to me with his telekinesis, shouts 'Porthos!' and the next thing I know, I'm here. Now, I ask you. Do you believe me, or am I going mad?"

"Alas, your story is a familiar one in the magical world," Snape replied quietly.

"How did they get their hands on you, anyway?" Hermione asked.

"They rang the ruddy doorbell!" Priscilla cried. "Three of them, in black robes. I thought at first they were some sort of cult, there to ask for money, but they just grabbed me."

"Then what?" Snape asked.

"Then something … weird … happened and we were suddenly somewhere else," Priscilla said flatly. "See? Told you you wouldn't believe me."

"On the contrary, we do. The name for that sort of travel is _Apparation_. They _Apparated_ you somewhere. Do you have any idea where?"

"_Apparation_." Priscilla seemed determined to remember the word. "I don't know where—a clearing in a forest somewhere. The air felt cool, like it does here. Not like London. Then they started, uh, hurting me. Somehow. They'd point their sticks at me and yell 'Crucifix' or some such thing, and then I'd be in agony until they stopped pointing at me."

"The _Cruciatus_ is an Unforgiveable curse in our world. It's a torture curse," Hermione explained.

"Your world has magical ways to torture people. Lovely." Priscilla closed her eyes. "After they 'Cruciatussed' me for a while, they started to get a bit more hands-on with the torture. Hands on, and then some. They took turns cutting me up, and some of them took turns... you know... with me. Your nurse seems to have healed most of it—with magic, I assume?"

Hermione nodded.

Priscilla continued. "I don't know how long I was there. It all just blended in together—a mass of beatings and … and worse, until all of a sudden your friend was there, all tied up. There was this guy wearing some sort of mask that made him look like a snake or an alien, and there was a big dog—it looked almost like a wolf, actually—who attacked him. During the confusion, your friend got loose and waved his stick around for a bit—that's when he sent me the button. Then they overpowered him and tied him up again. That's when he shouted that word at me, and then the thugs were gone and I was in a big room with an old man with a long beard. Then I had a dream that I was floating, and then I woke up here."

Snape frowned. "It would be helpful for us to know exactly what happened," he mused. "Would you be willing to allow Miss Granger and I access to your exact memory, Miss Hardwicke?"

"H-how could you do that?" Priscilla wanted to know.

"There are two ways," Snape said. "One is through a sort of magical telepathy, and the other is for us to extract the entire memory and view it externally."

"You can do that? Take a whole memory out of my head?" Priscilla asked. Snape nodded. "What will happen then? Will I remember?"

"You'll still have the memory, but the emotions surrounding it will be significantly dulled," Snape said.

"Oh, God. Do it," she ordered. "Please!"

"Very well." He drew his wand. "Please start at the beginning—when they rang your doorbell, and continue thinking about the whole thing until you awoke here and saw us. You'll feel a tickling sensation as I draw the memory out of your mind."

Priscilla closed her eyes and furrowed her brows for a moment. She hesitated, then nodded. "I'm ready. Go ahead."

Snape touched his wand to her temple, and then slowly drew it away. A few threads of silver followed it, and Hermione quickly conjured a flask to seal the memory in. Snape drew the threads further away until they broke and hung, fluttering, dangling from his wand. He took the flask with a nod of thanks, and carefully deposited the memory in it.

"Thank you, Miss Hardwicke," he breathed.

Priscilla shook her head, eyelids drooping. "I should thank you, Mr. Snape. I feel better already. If, uh, if you don't mind, I think I'll get some sleep."

"Of course."

Hermione patted Priscilla's arm. "I'm so sorry this happened to you, Priscilla. If you need anything, Madam Pomfrey can reach me anywhere in the castle. I'll be back to see you a little bit later, all right?"

"Fine," Priscilla said, without opening her eyes.

Hermione and Snape stopped briefly for a low-voiced conference with Madam Pomfrey. "If she needs anything, just send a Patronus, Madam Pomfrey," Hermione said. "She and I may not know each other well, but she may need to simply see someone familiar, in the face of all this madness."

"Yes, dear, I will do," the matron replied. "I'll take good care of your friend, Miss Granger."

"Right, then," Snape said crisply. He tilted his head sharply toward the door. "Dumbledore." Hermione held up the vial of memory strands and nodded.

The two of them took Priscilla's memory and headed straight back up to the Headmaster's office.

Dumbledore seemed to have aged years in the last two hours. "Minerva is seeing to Remus' arrangements," he told them without even greeting them first. "Probably a small funeral, and we'll mostly likely hold it here at Hogwarts. Remus didn't... I mean to say, there weren't many people..."

"He didn't have many friends because he was a werewolf," Snape summed up.

Dumbledore nodded. "Nor family. I was hoping that perhaps, since you both worked so closely with him this year, one of you might be willing to deliver a short eulogy."

"Fine."

"Oh, of course!"

"Tonks is just devastated, of course, but she thinks she might be able to say a few words as well. What have you got there?"

"Priscilla's memories of what happened when she got kidnapped last night."

"We wanted to borrow your Pensieve to view them, and thought you would want to see them, as well," Snape said.

Dumbledore's blue eyes, shadowed with grief, suddenly cleared and snapped up to meet theirs. "Definitely," he said. "Now."

He stood up with alacrity and led them over to the cabinet where he kept his Pensieve. Swirls of various memories undulated through it, which he gathered up with his wand and put all together in a large canning jar beside the giant stone bowl.

"Now, then," he said.

Snape uncorked the vial and emptied the memory into the bowl. He gave the vial a little shake to get the last little wisp of memory out of it, and then glanced up at the other two. "Ready?"

The three of them bent over and were drawn together into the memory.


End file.
